NRKANGEL'S BLOG
Something Old, Something New...
Thursday, July 1, 2004 1:37 AM
I read a post from another 'coat who hails from Burlington, VT (Hiya Liz! Thanks for the nice comment!
) and it occurred to me that the world is really a small place. I'm a transplanted Canadian living and working in California who travels a lot for work. At least once or twice a year, I make my way to Burlington and nearby Montreal, Canada in order to visit IBM (one of my company's clients).
It was on one of those trips that I have one of my favorite travel stories. It was winter and I was headed down from Montreal in a rental car. Being from Canada, I've driven in snowy conditions before so I wasn't particularly concerned. Besides the snowflakes were the big, fluffy type that lazily plopped themselves down on my windshield and this had lulled me into a false sense of security. At the time, I only had the hotel on my mind and just wanted to grab a hot shower and check e-mail before heading to dinner.
By the way, if you're ever in the Burlington area and have the chance, visit the Culinary Academy that's housed in the same location that used to be the old Governor’s mansion. It’s more than worth the effort if you want to spoil yourself (or a date) with a little elegant dining.
So there I am, enjoying a casual (albeit slow – like 30-45mph slow) drive and not in any particular hurry, when it suddenly occurs to me that I hadn't seen any traffic for some time. There was no one in front or behind me that I could see and even the highway going in the opposite direction seemed void of traffic. Feeling a little creepified, I looked around a little more closely to see if I hadn't somehow maybe entered the Twilight Zone.
The road ahead had been plowed, but not in the last hour so I could barely see the blacktop. The most recent tire tracks were quickly becoming a vague winter memory as only slight indentations remained and were being patiently wiped out by the thick snow.
I resisted an urge to stop simply because I wanted to get to my destination, but I was fascinated at how the world around me suddenly became a vast, white wasteland. Trees with naked limbs and branches clawed at the grey skies while the hills next to the highway loomed above like titans passing judgement. Naturally my thoughts slid uncomfortably close to "what the heck do I do if I drive off the stupid road?"
Just about that time, the car starts to pull to the side by itself (doesn't that just about figure?) and I realize that, slow as I’m going, I’m starting to slide. I take my foot off the gas, turn into the slide but it becomes pretty obvious that nothing I do will help. Turning the wheel does nothing, tapping the breaks does nothing. I would have had more success flapping my arms or praying to the Cold Miser for all the good that my defensive driving was doing. The only good news is that I was going so slowly that when I actually started to spin out, I could have finished the New York Times crossword puzzle (in pencil – I’m a coward) before I’d made one full rotation.
During the ridiculously slow ballet, I stayed in the car only because I knew the damned thing would probably run me over if I got out. (And how the heck would you explain that to anyone coming along after? "What? You got hit by your own car in the middle of the highway? Where are you FROM anyway?"
So I stayed inside, totally at the mercy of nature, physics and the fickle hand of fate.
Finally, two full turns later, the car stops facing the wrong way and about two hand-spans from the center guardrail. I get out and see the big loopy signature my car made in the fresh snow and bite back relief masquerading as nearly semi-hysterical laughter that's trying to break free.
Far in the distance, I see headlights of approaching traffic. Not wanting to be an obstacle (and certainly not wanting anyone to see me in this situation) I climbed in and s-l-o-w-l-y turned the car around and inched down the road again.
Everytime I think about this incident, I get this picture of me in a car on a snowy highway doing big, slow spins while the music
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