Winter Driving by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Recently, there was a post on Facebook asking for advice on driving in snow.

Konnie’s response was, “Don’t.”

I laughed.

I mean we’re from Idaho!

Of course, I took driver’s ed in high school, in Idaho. While Konnie put off learning to drive until she was serving a mission for our church, in Tennessee,

Yeah, I know how to drive in winter weather, I’d rather not have to if I can get away with it, but I can and do it.

And Konnie has driven in winter too, but she’s spent most of her driving years in Tennessee, Oregon, Washington, and Vegas. All in places that get little if any snow.

Needless to say, Konnie doesn’t have as much experience with driving in the winter. And I avoid the interstate during the winter if I can. Black ice is no fun.

But I have no choice but to drive in this weather. It’s winter here six or more months a year! This reminds me of something that happened to our father soon after we moved to Tacoma back in high school.

A few weeks after we got there, we woke up to find maybe four inches of snow on the ground. If you’re lucky.

So, by our standards, nothing to worry about, it wasn’t even half a foot of snow let alone three or four feet of the stuff! No problem.

Dad left for work, and soon after mine and Konnie’s ride to our early morning religion class arrived. Aside from our ride saying we were lucky they had four-wheel drive because of how DEEP the snow was. When our father got to work, his coworkers weren’t pleased with him.

They had been calling the boss saying they were snowed in when they were driving Jeeps and SUVs, and he told them if Delmar can get to work in his wagon, you can make it.

And well, Delmar did make it in.

And then there was when I lived in Norfolk Virginia.

One time, Tom and I had tickets to the circus. The circus always came to town in February, and for the two previous years, on opening night, snow was predicted. The first time, they predicted only an inch or two. They got more like four.

The next year, they predicted something like four inches. They got closer to a foot of snow during the show, and everyone was stuck at the arena until the streets could be plowed. Over a mere foot of snow!

The next year, when we had tickets for opening night, they predicted we’d get as much as the previous year. Everyone going that night came prepared to spend the night. I decided it might be wise to get there early enough to get underground parking, but other than that we weren’t worried, despite having a baby with us.

On the way from our car to the entrance of the arena, we saw a lot of people with sleeping bags, pillows, and coolers. And when we got in line, everyone was discussing how they prepared to stay the night if need be.

One of the guys looked over our infant and asked Tom what we had available if it snowed.

Tom grinned and said. “My Idaho driver’s license.”

And it did snow that night, no more than a few inches. But when it came time to driving up and out of the underground parking, the company running it had employees there to help push the vehicles up to street level.

Tom watched those guys push a JEEP up to the street, then drove our wagon up there before the guys could get behind us to push.

I looked back; they were dumbfounded.

It wasn’t that much snow! By Idaho standards.

Another time, I had been shopping at the Exchange and it got to be dinnertime. Tom was out to sea, so, instead of waiting until I got home, I took our then only son to the food court to get dinner.

As I sat down, I saw barely even noticeable flakes of snow drifting into the dirt outside the window.

Didn’t bother me, it was melting on contact, meaning the cold ground was too warm. In my Idaho-trained eyes, nothing to worry about.

A minute or two later another patron noticed jumped to his feet, and yelled, “It’s snowing!”

Within seconds, Billy and I were the only customers in the food court.

One of the employees approached me. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

I glanced at the melee in the parking lot, checked my watch, then told the girl, “The roads will be clear in about twenty minutes.”

FYI, I lived a twenty-minute drive away from the Exchange.

BTW, happy birthday today, Jerry! Konnie’s husband.

Happy writing everyone!