I love a good snow!
It really brought me out of my funk today, the one brought on by two months of rain (and Trump). I’m not even kidding…four days of sun in two months of rain. People in my house are like nihilistic animated zombies. Why even get dressed? What is the purpose of life? I am so tired. That kind of thing. Only the really depressing part is you can’t even give into the darkness, literally and figuratively. You have stuff to do, so you must get out of your track pants and get going.
Except if you are my son who I can’t get out of track pants.
I tried to let him know there is this thing out there called “style” and for it to be achieved, one needs to give up pants with only elastic waistbands. That and no one will want to date him, and he will be doomed to live in the basement for all eternity. This was more of a threat, but it backfired, as who wouldn’t want to hang in my basement? There’s a T.V. Often there are nachos available. Anyway…
Back to snow.
I was raised in Wisconsin, I am used to snow. I am used to it’s eerie beauty and it’s silencing muffle, used to it’s sometimes treacherous conditions, used to dodging out of the way of snow-plows going at high speed. I miss the giant piles of snow teetering at the edges of the mall parking lots. I miss the snow forts and snow ball fights and the camaraderie of it all.
“Isn’t this crazy? Look at all this snow!” is often the refrain.
But when it comes in Vancouver, it shuts us down. No one knows how to drive, the summer tires are often still on (Oh its winter? Oh shit, yeah…I forgot about winter in all that rain!) and the city slows to a crawl until the three sand trucks come out and drive somewhere near your house.
When my husband and I were first dating he called me from the airport to say he didn’t think his plane would be on time, due to snow.
“Aren’t they plowing the runways?” I stupidly asked.
“No,” he said. “There’s about five guys out there with brooms, trying to make a path.”
And…. that kinda sums it up.
When driving, no one knows which way to turn into a slide, so they just slide into each other. I think this could really be avoided if the Young Drivers educators let me take people out for a bit. First, we’d go into an empty parking lot.
“This is called, Whipping a Shittie,” I ‘d say, and then go full speed at a wall of snow only to turn and hit the brake at the last minute, doing what could only be described as a double doughnut. I’m not sure what real merit it has for driving, other than letting you know you can spin around really really fast, sometimes of your own volition. Then I’d set up some cones, and lay some ice. The turning into-a-spin-to-turn-it-out again thing is really helpful, and hard to learn. (This must be a big parking lot). Then we’d again go at the wall and see how long it takes for the brakes to work, and if pumping or not helps. (It does) Most likely, we will smash into the wall, until we get to know how far your particular brakes will take before engaging. But, if you’re driving an early model VW Jetta, the bumper can mostly be pulled right back out with no one the wiser. And if you happen to own an old Volvo, never fear, snow piles and cars will just bounce right off of you. In my experience, that is.
Perhaps that’s why people don’t know these things. You actually have to be willing to beat your car up a little bit to see how it works. Now cars are worth the same as some small houses in Wisconsin, so, people are less likely to want to risk the mound. But it’s invaluable, seriously.
So if you’re able, find yourself some testing ground. Whip a shittie or two, to get in the mood. It might just actually save you from actually crapping yourself later.
Yes, this is a terrible picture through my screen. But it sort of looks like there’s an elf sitting on the top of the garage. And also a giant hulking shadow. Oh wait! That’s me. You can play “spot the items that aren’t supposed to be here”. But you can see, snow is pretty. Just drive slowly, Vancouverites.