During a drawn out drive down interstate 93, from New Hampshire to Boston, in a relentless snow, there are many things I realize I would prefer to be doing. A short list, then, for your enjoyment:
- Coffee next to a fireplace (not gas station variety, possibly espresso with a touch of cream and most importantly a wood burning fireplace not a gas "fireplace" dammit)
- Beer (with friends, that I have just left, and that I miss)
- Dancing the night away with a beautiful girl (lots of twirling, sure)
- Swinging on a swing set (preferably with the opportunity to jump off into relatively deep snow at one's leisure)
- Skiing (yes, its obvious and therefore is down the list because really it isn't much of an option to even think about, or rather, dwell on much because it is snowing - a lot - and I am driving south.)
And to more immediate concerns. We return to the road.
A Uhaul truck, you might think, would not be the most snow-worthy vehicle in existence - and you would be right. Though the vehicle itself was not so much the problem. The wipers.
The *&$#% wipers.
Being able to see the world around you is a wonderful thing - and it is especially nice, some may even argue imperative, when you are driving a fast moving, fully loaded truck (from a company with a spotty safety record that inspires such groups as "f*ck Uhaul" etc and similarly hostile entities) down snow covered asphalt surrounded by equally rapidly moving pieces of metal and glass. Really dramatic collisions and subsequent explosions were close to my mind, as was the damn glass antique cookie jar that kept sliding around the driver's compartment.
So as the wipers froze up, the road slowly faded away to something resembling an impressionist painting of a highway. Driving then became an exercise close to meditation. I kind of had to trust that the road was there.
Let me give you an example.
So there is this scene in Star Wars (again? really?). Luke Skywalker is learning how to use the force and must defend himself from this hostile floating robot tennis ball thing. And this floating malady has lasers and such that it shoots as it flies around. Luke must defend himself with his light saber (if you do not know what this is, just forget it).
Easy you say. I could do that in my sleep loser.
Ah! But there's a catch. Luke must defend himself from the hovering ball of inconvenience while blindfolded! Unbelievable.
And Luke is a Jedi, and I am not, but...
...It worked. I made it down the interstate, through the snowstorm, with my 46" LCD TV intact.
Bleary eyed, I pulled into South Boston, parking in a snow covered school lot - emptied for the weekend. Just in time for the party. There was snow on the streets and smiles on everyone's faces. People wandering, the magic a snowstorm can project upon a city. "Keep it up brother", one yelled as we passed each other on the street.
I'm getting closer.
There is another storm in the mix for Sunday here in the Northeast.
I will not miss this one.
