On Tuesday, January 28, 2014, I went into class early. No snow. Cold, but, hey it’s January. After setting up the classroom, I meandered out to the front of the gym. A few spits from the skies came down. Small, more like pellets than snow, fell and did not stick to the pavement. Kinda like rain.
An hour later, class ended, equipment stored, I headed out to a lot of white-stuff on my car, the parking lot, and the gym announced they would close at 4:00 pm. I brushed off the ‘snow’ on the car windows, hood, top and let the rest alone. It will blow off as I drive. Yeah, right. I drove to my entrance to the main drag home. Yee! Gods! Cars everywhere, going north, going south, and not going at all. I got the impression that every person had their own car on the road, and this included cars for their pets. A sea of cars, trucks, SUV’s, crowded every lane. I was in one of the three lanes heading south, and the other three lanes heading north were full.
I looked at my gas gauge, 3/4 full, but still said a prayer. For once, all the drivers kept close, but did not ride the bumper ahead of them. When I got within a mile of home, my bladder made me shudder. Guys have the advantage here. I used some of my exercise positions to hold tight. I couldn’t feel my numb feet, but knew they were still there as I could push the brake and use the accelerator, but what for? I wasn’t going anywhere quick.
I got to the corner to turn on my street and thought about the hill down to my condo entrance. My heart flipped. After this hill, I had to go down, around, up, around, down, up around and prayed for no ice.
Once inside my parking deck, I took a deep breath. I do not remember breathing, but since I made the trip, guess my body did breathe. I opened the driver’s door and could not move. My whole body was numb. Feet did not go in the direction I pointed them. My butt did not feel attached to my body. As I came close to crawling out, to get inside my condo building, I saw two inches of snow, maybe more glazed over with ice. With a little Devine Intervention, my tennis shoes slid across the white stuff. I entered my building with only a short elevator ride to home. OH! OH! Just let me get inside; then if my bladder reacts, I’m, home. I made it to the bathroom. I made it home. I made the ride and know I could do it again, but HOPE not for a long-long time.
I can hear some of you laughing. Go ahead, enjoy yourselves. We are in the South, and not used to other ways of life. Yet, old dogs can learn new tricks. I can even hear Edna and Ethel laughing.
May you have warmer days until Spring arrives.