Icy Driving

Icy Driving

It rained Christmas Eve day before the sun came out in the afternoon. My sister had no trouble traveling the thirty miles to pick up my mother from the assisted living facility and back for dinner at her house. Frail now, our mom decided she felt too tired to go to Christmas Eve church service with my sister, so my sons and I drove her back to the facility. I don’t see well enough to drive at night, which elected my younger son. My older boy has no interest in trying to pay for a car and the exorbitant insurance of first-time drivers.

Fully dark, temperatures dropping, we immediately noticed a weird shimmying of the car. At first we thought something might be wrong with the tires or suspension. Then we noticed other cars going unusually slow as well. In the back seat, I could feel my son’s tension. He has been driving for three years but mostly took the bus during bad weather when he traveled to school. This was probably the first time he had to travel any distance in icy conditions.

I softly encouraged, very glad when we saw the sand trucks starting to make their rounds. We made it to the facility and had no trouble getting my mother out of the car on the treated parking lot. Thankfully, by the time we had gotten my mother settled and were ready to leave, the sanders had done their job and, though still having to go slower than the posted speed, we had no more trouble.

A Less Happy Ending

I’m glad my son had that positive experience, so he recognizes the dangers of icy roads but doesn’t freeze himself with fear, as I do. Before I had my kids, I worked in a town about forty miles from home and usually took a mountainous route to and from. One winter, a storm started while I was at work. I left early enough, I thought, to get safely home by this route, but conditions rapidly deteriorated. I had a compact sports car and couldn’t go more than fifteen miles an hour.

A larger car came up behind me and started tailgating, unhappy with my speed. I foolishly let him intimidate me, afraid he would start to slide and slam into me, and pressed on the gas to go a bit faster. That was all it took. I started three-sixtying down the road. Thank God no one was on the other lane because I careened over, back and forth, and landed backend first into a snowbank. The car behind me kept on going, never stopped to see if I was hurt. A woman soon came up, stopped, and took me home.

The car was insured and I only had the inconvenience of no vehicle for a few days. I, on the other hand, did not fare as well. I felt fine until I woke up the next morning and literally could not sit up to get out of bed—whiplash. My chest and neck felt two sizes too big and made of concrete. I had to wear a collar for weeks.

The worse part of course is the fear and not wanting to put yourself in that situation again. I rarely drive in wintery conditions, and when I absolutely must, feel my neck and chest tighten up all over again with the wheel-gripping tension. I hope my sons never have this kind of experience and learn caution from me rather than fear.