Recently, you may recall, I was whinging about what a bad month I was having. Well, there are reasons to count blessings too. These past two weekends I’ve been ferrying my daughter across ski country: last week to New York State and this one to central Ontario. On both occasions I dodged metaphorical bullets.
The first bullet: Following a spate of unseasonably lovely weather, winter was officially declared over this week by the weather clown on Global TV. At that precise moment I decided not to switch the winter tires for the all-seasons. Since then, three days of rain in most of Ontario created three mornings of slushy ice upon the Niagara Escarpment near Collingwood. Two hours ago, I dropped my daughter off there for her snowboarding lesson. At the foot of the hill it was gently drizzling. Atop, it was creating a skating rink for automobiles. That was my route back to the chalet.
1.5 hours ago, I was in the middle of a cloud on a high dirt road that sees few users. Today it was ice covered, from the warm wet day yesterday and plunge in temperatures overnight. Then, suddenly, thick snow fell.
‘Snowfall’ is a word, I believe, that is rarely accurate. You could say snow softly alights or descends usually, but this was a genuine fall. These two wet inches were so sudden, you could almost hear a bump.
I hit a patch of ice and spun leftish, then overcorrected just like I always advise readers not to do, spun rightish, touched the brake gently – or so I thought till I heard and felt that raucous parradiddle of the ABS – spun 360 degrees, but thankfully came to a complete halt in the middle of this deserted road.
I did a few seconds of yoga breathing and proceeded gently on, grateful for the snow tires and four-wheel drive. Without them, I’d still be in the ditch cursing the weather clown. Maybe worse.
Image courtesy of discopalace.