It was all supposed to be so simple. I was going to see the boys Saturday and Sunday, then drive back from TN at 3:00am, so I could make my psych test at 2:00 back here in MI. Then, about 35 miles or so from the Kentucky border, I hit snow. I had been on the road less than an hour and I hit snow...
A lot of snow.
Then I got run off the road by some fucking moron who thought he should be going considerably faster than everyone else. He was trying to change lanes and was fishtailing - unable to complete the lane change and unable to stop. So I swerved and hit the wall of the overpass - not bad, just cosmetic damage to the car, none to me. I was only going 25mph at that point, because I was going over an overpass and was none to keen on changing lanes to pass people.
Being from MI, learning to drive here I have more than a passing familiarity with driving in that shit - that was not a time to be flying down the road.
I got going - asshat didn't hit the guy in front of me, because he saw me wipe and pulled over. Unfortunately, neither of us managed to get fucking moron's plate, because I was a little busy and he was more concerned about making sure I was all right. I got going again and spent the following 11.5 hours driving 350 fucking miles through a fucking blizzard.
Driving through a blizzard mind, in a state that generally doesn't get that many of them. On the one hand, there were people going about 5-10mph - on the other, the truly fucking stupid people who don't seem to understand that four wheels turning can slide just as easily as two wheels turning - and as they have four wheel drive, they think they can whip past everyone at seventy something. They also seem to think it is ok to tailgate us lesser humans who are stuck with half the drive train they have.
Never mind that at least half the vehicles in ditches are four wheel drive.
So I spent about 11.5 hours with my teeth clenched, my asscheeks clenched, trying to be on one of the outside lanes - preferably the left. That way if one of either factions of morons encroached upon my lane to the extent that I could no longer hold it, I would be able to ditch it. Or at least have shoulder to scoot into...Cause nothing says fun like fresh, thick slush...
I would say that I should have just kept the boys another night and headed back this morning, but the weather was supposed to be reasonable and I probably wouldn't be getting back until right about now, as apposed to a few hours ago. At least the last 200 miles was clear sailing, I don't think I could have taken much more of that shit.
2 comments:
It once took my husband and me 3 1/2 hours to drive 45 miles, on glaze ice over light snow. Some fool came roaring up behind us, pulled into the other lane to pass us, and went into a series of 360s before nearly going off an overpass. Somehow, some way, he pulled it out, and went speeding off into the night.
That still ranks as Number Two in my list of Scarey Vehicular Incidents, and it's been nearly 26 years.
cicely
Typepad: Still Blowing Chunks. Because consistency is important, dammit!
You have my respect for such a trip. The last time I drove a long way in a blizzard was from Lafayette, Indiana to Stacy, Minnesota. As most of the trip was through Wisconsin and Minnesota, the majority of drivers (who were few) had snow experience. It was a very long, slow trip.
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