Blizzards

I love blizzards----I love them more than any other major weather related news event (especially when I do not have to leave the house).

My plan for the day----sit home, occasionally look out the window and think "wow that's a lot of snow", put on the news sporadically and hope that this will be dubbed "Blizzard of '05" (I like when Blizzards get named after the years that they hit---I recall surviving the "Blizzard of '96"--I'll come back to that) as I want to tell my grandchildren about how their Grandpappy survived the "Blizzard of Naught-Five", and maybe (just maybe) venture out into the elements and track down some fruit-punch Gatorade to soothe the cotton mouth that a bottle and 1/2 of wine causes within a mouth the morning (afternoon) after it is consumed.

Blizzard of '96 story----


When the Blizzard of '96 struck I was living in a small house out in the suburbs of New York City. The house was a converted bungalow with a small driveway leading to a road that formed a distorted circle before it eventually connected to the main road at one of its ends. As the snow accumulated trucks continually passed by our road, plow to the ground, moving snow on our rode as they drove by. Anyone who has ever seen a plow grind through new fallen snow knows that a plow does not just deposit snow in a neat and out of the way area directly within the path of the truck's forward momentum, it also builds giant mountains of Everest proportions to its sides. The result of this is, as the plow clears off the road in front of the house it builds an insurmountable (and eminently un-shovelable) tower of snow at the base of the driveway.

As the snow withered away that night and it became time for me to shovel the driveway so that our asphalt would communicate with the exposed tar of the road, I called a good friend and offered him 5 CDs from my collection if he would grab a shovel and help me in this process. (This was a habit of mine back then and it is how I got the carpet laid in my basement). He was within walking distance so 20 minutes later he showed up, body wrapped in a black parka, a sky blue sock hat stretched over his head, and 2 bitter red puffy gloves covering his hands that clashed with his angry hat, ready to get to work. We started by the garage door (within which the badass 1994 4 cylinder Saturn was housed) and began digging our way out of the foot of snow masking the driveway below. In about an hour we had managed to dig our way to the end of the driveway, where silently waiting for us was an angry giant, it towered over both of us in its majestic beauty, it was the K-2 of plow made mountains. It was breathtaking beautiful, it raced the high into sky with 3 distinct peaks that reached out to the newly formed clouds of amorphous white that encircled its God's eye view of the vast land that stretched out before it (and my driveway). I stood there, stunned for a moment at what nature could create, amazed at how small I was, and aware of how fleeting life is. A small tear escaped the grasp of my right eye. Nevertheless it had to be conquered.

As the existential splendor of the grandeur of the mountain faded, I began to develop an ingenious plan. I would use a tool of man to conquer the power of nature, I was going to rediscover fire, I was going to unleash the wheel, I was going to alter the elements as no creature before me had been able to do! I was going to take the badass 4-clander Saturn out from the newly shoveled driveway and use the 20 feet between the garage and the majesty of God's tallest creation to drive the Saturn to breathtaking speeds and destroy the mountain with 1 violent act. This is how the mountain would end, not with a bang but with a Saturn.

I raced to the garage opened the pathetic door and jumped behind the wheel of my Badass Saturn. The massive leviathan stared mockingly through the windshield daring me to ram it, challenging me to knock it down. Angrily I pressed down firmly on the gas; the car sprang to life and sped towards our mutual destruction. The mountain grew large in the foreground the catastrophic crash was imminent, I closed my eyes.

When I finally came to and took account of my surroundings I was unpleasantly surprised with the situation I found myself in. The car teetered back and forth like a rusty see-saw, only I was unable to figure out why or discern the fulcrum. Finally, I looked out the window and to my horror realized what had happened. I had driven through the top of the mountain, knocking it down in a violent explosion and had replaced the summit with my Badass Saturn, now delicately balanced atop the newly formed apex, all 4 wheels suspended in the air (stratosphere) and rotating pathetically. I repelled down the North face and met up with my friend at the base of the uncovered driveway. Realizing the time and work that would now have to be done we both sat down for 15 minutes and contemplated silently how the pale monolith before us had managed to turn 2 hours of shoveling into a 6 hour rescue expedition.

I am pleased to report that 7 hours later the car was freed without incident.