Sunday, you may have noticed the inclement weather. Jeff and I left the house by 8 am, before the storm hit our part of the city. We went to church (that's right, we made it there, along with 28 other hardy souls) and figured we could go home and shovel out in the afternoon.
Plot Twist: Since the evening service got quickly cancelled, our family decided to do a movie afternoon. Girls would go to my sister's place to watch Anne of Green Gables; boys would go to our place to watch Lord of the Rings. We would just scatter briefly to eat lunch, change clothes, dig out whatever needed to be dug out, and then we would settle in for some cozy movie-viewing.
So we ate lunch, and then headed home. Got to the end of our street, peered down it, and judged that with a little luck, we could navigate it. We were mistaken. We managed to forward-and-back our way halfway down the street, then gave up, and backed all the way out. Boys movie got moved to my parents' place.
Soooo....we drove up the mountain to my parents' place. Their street was a mess too, but you could (sort of) drive down it. Jeff was driving. We worked our way down the first section of the street, crept around a car that was sort of in a driveway and sort of in the road, rounded the curve, up the hill, prayed briefly as we hit a section with no traction at all, bombed straight through a stop sign, and pulled up in front of the house.
Jeff hopped out, and Mom just had to run in to get some stuff and run out again. But alas, although she was moving quickly, it was not quick enough, and other cars came bombing through the same stop sign I had just bombed through...I had to get out of the way. I hollered out the window - "I'll be back!" and drove on.
But there was nowhere to stop! No where to turn around. I rounded a corner, came to another stop sign, almost got taken out by another car who was happily oblivious to the fact that they were sending me into a snowbank for no reason. I rolled down my window, and stuck my arm out as far as it could go, and yelled "STOP!!" (Honest, that's all I said, but it was very firm, and effective too!)
We worked our way past each other, and I aimed to turn around at the next intersection. Nope - there's a stuck car there, just keep on driving so you don't join them. And now I am out of the subdivision, and wondering HOW I am going to get back in to pick up my mom.
I stop at a gas station, and try to phone them all, to say, "Tell Mom to hike out to the main road!" No answer. What to do?
Back on the main road, and there is nowhere - NOWHERE - to turn in, to pause, to turn around. And so I end up back at the beginning of this circle, and realize - I'm going to have to go back into the subdivision the same way Jeff drove in the first time.
OK. I can do this.
I turned onto the first section of my parents' street. The car that had previously been sort of in a driveway, and sort of in the road, was now entirely in the road, and thoroughly stuck. I am NOT driving down there to get stuck with him. So I wait. A pick-up truck with big wheels inches around me and goes down the road ahead of me. Great - I can follow in his tracks.
We round a corner, and now he's gone, I don't know where. And facing me is a very narrow, very messy lane. There is one car in front of me, trying to get through it. And there are two cars coming towards me, hugging the snow bank, and waiting for the car in front of me to get by them. That car gets stuck. The people in the other two cars hop out to help the first one.
I look around. This is ridiculous. Miraculously, there is a cleared driveway right beside me, so I pull in. If all these other cars will just GET OUT OF THE WAY, I can get through this street. Because I AM CANADIAN, and I KNOW how to drive in a snowstorm!
All the other cars clear out of the way. The theme to Rocky begins playing in my head. Neighbours stop shovelling and lean on their shovels to watch. I wave at them, with an ace pilot's reckless grin, back out into the road, jam the car into first gear and surge forward. The engine screams, the tires spin, the neighbours catch their breath, and I glare at the road in front of me. I will not be defeated!
Slowly, then gaining in speed, my car plowed through the mess on the road. I reached the top of the hill, to the traction-less place, suggested briefly to God that I could use an angel, just for a moment. Over the hill, bombed through the stop sign and pulled up again in front of my parents' house. Mom was waiting on the side of the road, and jumped in. Jeff was on the sidewalk, both arms raised in a cheer. I rolled down my window, and yelled, "I'M A GOOD CANADIAN GIRL!!!" and kept on going, because we had an appointment with Anne of Green Gables.
And THAT, my friends, is what real Canadians do in a blizzard.
