We’ve had ghastly weather for over a week, but this morning when I opened the front door, I heard the glorious sound: drip-drip-drip.
So, at noon, my daughter and I raced to the grocery store so she could buy her brothers a present. (She hadn’t remembered until today, apparently. She’s six years old.) Of course, I need important things like sour cream and black olives.
We have two vans–a normal mini-van and a Chevy cargo van which is 13 years old. My husband drives the newer van to work, leaving the gigantic old van for me to motor around town. I can finally park it between the white lines in a parking lot–a skill which took me a couple of years to master. (That’s just pulling in straight. I could never ever parallel park this behemoth.)
The last time I drove the big van was when it had started snowing a week ago. It took me six tries to get backed out of my sloping driveway and then I slid all over my unplowed road. Truly, driving this van on the snow is like trying to steer a living room on wheels–without brakes or steering wheel. Or like motoring a boat on a stormy sea . . . with no rudder or oars. Kinda scary.
I was confident today, though, because of the drip-drip-drip. I had my teenagers shovel the snow from behind the van. The funny thing was that they didn’t shovel as much as they raked and “broomed.” Whatever. As long as I didn’t have to contend with a snowbank before I even hit the road.
Our road was slippery, but once I hit the main road all was well. Hooray!
The parking lot at the grocery store was another story. A bad story. I had to park way out in the parking lot because it’s not easy to park an enormous van in a slushy snowy parking lot packed with a million last minute grocery shoppers. Awesome, though, because I was out in the world and not at home without sour cream. Then I stepped out of the van and into a deep puddle of melty slushy snow. Pretty.
But we shopped. We paid. Then, back to the out in no-man’s-land. I couldn’t push the cart to the van because of the icy slushy snow pack. Instead, I carried the bags from the cart which sat pretty much in the middle of the parking lot. I hurried, though, then returned to the cart and waited for an opening in traffic and backed out.
Only when I backed out, I couldn’t pull forward because I was stuck. And a car was waiting for my parking spot. I had to pull forward and try again. But another car stopped to wait for me . . . and when I backed out, my tires spun, unable to get traction and I couldn’t move. So I pulled forward again, gunned it, hoped to not hit the car behind me. . . and got stuck again.
After four or five tries and a little Christmas jeering (MOVE ALONG, PEOPLE!) I realized I could turn the opposite way. So, I was able to exit the parking lot. Hooray, hooray. It’s the small things–like being able to drive backward and forward in my living-room-on-wheels that make me happy.
Anyway, what a long story without much of a point, but hey, Merry Christmas! I hope you have a delightful day and that no one vomits in your house. (Huh? Where’d that come from?)