So, the time came for me to return to Clarkson University at the end of the holiday break. My father, being the incorrigible information guru he is, posed a simple statement: “I wonder if it is it snowing outside”. After some thought, it occured to me that I would be driving through the tug hill plateau snow belt. Immediately I decided to drive up during the evening to minimize the traffic encountered, and to limit how much snow could accumulate.Â
Departure occured at 8 pm, and I arrived without incident in Syracuse at about 9:30. Heading North on Route 81, I thought that I had somehow outrun the snow; that is until the lights from a nearby city illuminated the underside of rapidly approaching clouds. The snow fell lightly at first, but within one mile, the ground was covered. I slowed to about thirty miles per hour, as my car was having directional stability issues due to the crappy OEM tires that came on the car. No sooner had I thought to myself: “self, it is becoming harder and harder to tell where the lanes are”, that I had wound up in an exit lane and had to perform a full ABS stop to avoid going through the stop light at the bottom of the ramp.Â
Decision time. Do I continue in the rapidly deteriorating conditions, or do I find a parking lot and hope it passes? Well, those of you who know me know that I love adventures. These adventures started when my dad and myself were travelling in a 1980 Chevy Citation, when the fan belt broke. Ever since then, I will usually choose the more challenging path when given a choice like this one. So, away I went, and reclaimed my spot in a long line of cars that were slowly travelling North. Eventually, the road became so choked with snow, that only one pair of ruts existed in the snow. Out of the white abyss, this crazy trucker plows his way past the line of cars with a confidence that defied logic.Â
What to do? Well, seeing as the line of cars was slowing down, and the truck was making good ruts, I grabbed Sir Issac Newton by the balls and barely managed to translate the car the eight feet to the other lane. By the grace of God, and a farting grasshopper that must have hitched a ride on my back bumper, I caught the truck and kept him one car length in front of me at all times.
Before long, it was just the trucker and myself. I began to wonder what would happen if I were to loose sight of this crazy trail guide, and decided that I would probably slide off the road and be snowbound. Needless to say, I stayed put. Then, for some odd reason, the trucker increased his already outrageous 40 mph speed to 60 mph. No choice. Speed up. If I stopped, some other nutcase would hit me from behind.
Time seemed to stop. The snow was becoming mesmerizing, and I had to look out the side windows to confirm the speed indicated on the speedometer. I can liken the experience to walking towards a light with your eyes shut. About half an hour later, the snow subsided, and the footing was becoming more stable. I made it. Looking behind me, I saw nobody. Somewhere between North Syracuse and Pulaski, Several cars were struggling to find their way.
Reflecting on the event, I thought about how sometimes in life we have to focus on the thing that is going where we want to go. I realized that if I had looked back, for just a moment, I would have lost my way. Reflection in life is necessary, but only when you can see where you are going.