Snow Day
Chicago’s first major snow blew into today, 6 inches or more, starting around 2:30 p.m., and still going strong at the current midnight hour. I worked late tonight, so didn’t leave until the afternoon, gleeful about the first flurries. This is my calling card. Winter is my Wisconsin heritage.
Some neighbors on my block were not so happy.
“Manuel, I need to get my car out nooo-oowww,” shrieked some sweet, young Latina. The unlucky Manuel stared at me as I walked by. “Do you have a shovel?” he asked, looking panicked.
“Sorry, no.” I smiled. He half-heartedly smiled back. I wondered if he had ever seen snow before. I wonder what made him think I had a shovel? Maybe just random hope.
It was 3:30 p.m. when Jen left her work in Schaumberg. According to Brad, she didn’t arrive home until after 7:00 p.m. When Brad left at 9:00 p.m., we foolishly thought that he would have no trouble. It took him almost two hours, or “125 minutes to Downtown,” as the sign said before the Peterson exit.
I left at 11:30 p.m., excited to see what the world looked like. The sounds of emergency sirens had finally died off after hours of play, and there was nothing but the heater to interrupt the quiet. I turned it as low as possible to try to capture the feel of the night.
I love the snow. I love the silence of it. I love the peril of it. It’s thrilling to think what could happen. It’s like a real-live video game, an adult race course at minimal speed. I am also unafraid. My father prepared me when I first started to drive, ran me through parking lots at high speeds in big turns so that I would drift and learn to come out of it.
“OFF THE BRAKE! FOOT OFF THE BRAKE! TURN INTO THE SPIN!”
Terrifying lessons from a man who was terrified of a first-born learning to drive. But after my terror came knowledge, and after knowledge came confidence, and after confidence came the enjoyment of seeing an ever-changing obstacle, and overcoming it completely. A false confidence perhaps, taking on the Elements. But I’ve yet to run a plane off a runway, so I’m feeling pretty good about myself.
The snow is so compacted that it feels like I’m riding on the rims of my tires. But apart from the fear that I really have run the rubber from my tires, I’m complacent. I’m in no hurry, though I don’t understand the drivers that insist on driving slow in the fast lanes. This is still the highway, dammit. They’ll never get that, under any conditions.
I like the lighting too. The way streetlights look purple-pale under inches of a white screen. It’s like the end of the world.
So now, trapped on the highway until my exit, I’m enjoying the “white knuckle flight,” as my mother would call it. My hands are a bit cramped, the force of holding the steering wheel so tightly so as not to run off the road. But I find myself not minding the thought, even enjoying the thought of running off into a ditch, the helpless coasting leading into places previously not traveled. Is it only me? Is that strange? I imagine calling the tow truck, watching it haul my car out of the side of the road, joking about my bad driving, giving him money. An expensive pleasure. I’d better keep driving.
Cars are strewn all over the road, facing the wrong direction completely. They must have spun. INTO the spin, people. Jesus. Foot OFF the brake. The Highway Emergency Crew is out in full force. I see one guy grin - the tow guy taking care of a giant Lexus. Good day for that guy. Good. Day.
Home again, and it feels like no time has passed at all. I don’t want the plows to ruin the fun, but they will before morning. Silly thought, it’s not all fun and games, I know. But there’s something so satisfying, eerie about being enclosed in a car in an enclosed world and all having to travel slowly together. It isn’t about “learning to slow down,” or “surviving something with my fellow man.” It’s about being unafraid to take it on, whatever it is, and knowing how to do it well. It’s such a dumb thing. But it sure as hell made my night. I can’t wait to do it again.
Welcome, Winter.
Some neighbors on my block were not so happy.
“Manuel, I need to get my car out nooo-oowww,” shrieked some sweet, young Latina. The unlucky Manuel stared at me as I walked by. “Do you have a shovel?” he asked, looking panicked.
“Sorry, no.” I smiled. He half-heartedly smiled back. I wondered if he had ever seen snow before. I wonder what made him think I had a shovel? Maybe just random hope.
It was 3:30 p.m. when Jen left her work in Schaumberg. According to Brad, she didn’t arrive home until after 7:00 p.m. When Brad left at 9:00 p.m., we foolishly thought that he would have no trouble. It took him almost two hours, or “125 minutes to Downtown,” as the sign said before the Peterson exit.
I left at 11:30 p.m., excited to see what the world looked like. The sounds of emergency sirens had finally died off after hours of play, and there was nothing but the heater to interrupt the quiet. I turned it as low as possible to try to capture the feel of the night.
I love the snow. I love the silence of it. I love the peril of it. It’s thrilling to think what could happen. It’s like a real-live video game, an adult race course at minimal speed. I am also unafraid. My father prepared me when I first started to drive, ran me through parking lots at high speeds in big turns so that I would drift and learn to come out of it.
“OFF THE BRAKE! FOOT OFF THE BRAKE! TURN INTO THE SPIN!”
Terrifying lessons from a man who was terrified of a first-born learning to drive. But after my terror came knowledge, and after knowledge came confidence, and after confidence came the enjoyment of seeing an ever-changing obstacle, and overcoming it completely. A false confidence perhaps, taking on the Elements. But I’ve yet to run a plane off a runway, so I’m feeling pretty good about myself.
The snow is so compacted that it feels like I’m riding on the rims of my tires. But apart from the fear that I really have run the rubber from my tires, I’m complacent. I’m in no hurry, though I don’t understand the drivers that insist on driving slow in the fast lanes. This is still the highway, dammit. They’ll never get that, under any conditions.
I like the lighting too. The way streetlights look purple-pale under inches of a white screen. It’s like the end of the world.
So now, trapped on the highway until my exit, I’m enjoying the “white knuckle flight,” as my mother would call it. My hands are a bit cramped, the force of holding the steering wheel so tightly so as not to run off the road. But I find myself not minding the thought, even enjoying the thought of running off into a ditch, the helpless coasting leading into places previously not traveled. Is it only me? Is that strange? I imagine calling the tow truck, watching it haul my car out of the side of the road, joking about my bad driving, giving him money. An expensive pleasure. I’d better keep driving.
Cars are strewn all over the road, facing the wrong direction completely. They must have spun. INTO the spin, people. Jesus. Foot OFF the brake. The Highway Emergency Crew is out in full force. I see one guy grin - the tow guy taking care of a giant Lexus. Good day for that guy. Good. Day.
Home again, and it feels like no time has passed at all. I don’t want the plows to ruin the fun, but they will before morning. Silly thought, it’s not all fun and games, I know. But there’s something so satisfying, eerie about being enclosed in a car in an enclosed world and all having to travel slowly together. It isn’t about “learning to slow down,” or “surviving something with my fellow man.” It’s about being unafraid to take it on, whatever it is, and knowing how to do it well. It’s such a dumb thing. But it sure as hell made my night. I can’t wait to do it again.
Welcome, Winter.