Saturday's Snow

Saturday’s Snow             

By John W. Vander Velden

I was led to thinking about a winter day a couple of years ago. Saturday often found us seeking our lunch at the local Wendy’s. Just another dreary day during the perma-cloudy season of northern Indiana winter. As I sat staring out the window I did not take the phone call I received from a friend that lived some ten miles west seriously. He asked about cancelling the church service the following day. I just shook my head as I looked out at the dreary day. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings,” I told him.

The snow began just as we made our way to the car. Blinding large flakes thicker than fog blew across the parking lot, and soon visibility became limited.

I chose the country roads, it was only nine miles, thinking the nearness of the fence line would give me bearings. It soon became foolish.

The way familiar. The time, just passed noon. The car, well it was just our old PT Cruiser. Visibility near zero.

Time moves incredibly slowly when you drive by feel. Headlights burst out of the whiteness before us only feet in front of our bumper. We can’t stop. But I slam into a drift and our car finds itself cocked partly across the road and forward motion ceases. I rock the car. No luck.

I squeeze out into the blindness hoping against hope that no one was as foolish as I. Jackie takes the controls as I push and we wedge the old Chrysler forward and free.

Onward we press on...slowly...headlights on...flashers blinking...wipers slapping the snow aside. How we find the intersection I will never know, but we began heading north only a few more miles to go. They were long miles. Moving forward meant a shorter walk home. Moving forward, not certain if we would come to the next turn. Moving forward wondering exactly where we were.

The car is quiet. Only the sounds the defroster blasting and the windshield wipers whup, whup, in their feeble attempt to make visibility possible in a white world that absorbed our view only feet from the windshield. We sit side by side silently staring into the opaque world that has engulfed us. We stare forward trying to pick out any familiarities, a tree perhaps, a gate, anything.

At last the final turn. Thumping through drifts. Pounding through I need to keep the momentum going. We reach the neighbor’s drive and I back in.

My heart begins to beat again. When I release the steering wheel the trembling starts.

They are wonderful people and I am certain they could not imagine that anyone would come thumping on their door on THAT Saturday afternoon.

Jim took us home, he had four wheel drive.

I have driven for fifty years, springs, summers, fall and winters too. But I have never faced a situation like that Saturday’s Snow and hope never to face such an event again.

(488 Words)  1-12-2019