I woke up Monday morning and, sure enough, the weather forecasters had gotten it right.
There was a thin layer of ice covering everything outside.
I have grown skeptical of the overly dramatic tv forecasters who predict Snowmageddon, the New Ice Age and the end of the world as we know it every couple of weeks.
But this time, they predicted ice and there it was, on my windshield, on the sidewalk and on the grass.
I would have preferred to have a cup of coffee and crawl back in bed, but duty called. I needed to get photos of the ice storm for this week’s paper, so I fired up the minivan and loaded it to go work.
The minivan in question is a 2002 Dodge that we bought new in the fall of 2001. A few years ago, I converted into a two-seat camper/ hauler.
There’s a plywood platform in the back that doubles as a bedframe when Kindra and I are able to go camping and as a place to haul my doghouse bass when we have a gig.
On Monday, it also served as a mobile photo studio.
I nearly fell three times covering the 30 yards from the garage to the minivan. There had been enough rain to pool and freeze around the gravel in the driveway and it was as slick as a hockey rink.
I wondered if perhaps the smart move might be to stay home, but I scraped off the ice that hadn’t defrosted and headed out.
The minivan has front-wheel drive with good tires (“Tarrs,” if you are from Fitzhugh). It’s a good ice-crawler, but there was precious little traction to be had going up the slight incline out of the driveway.
It slid a time or two and feinted toward the ditch, but we made it to the crest.
It was then that I realized stopping at the T intersection at the bottom of the slope might be harder than getting to the crest had been.
I eased the transmission into neutral and lightly pressed the brakes, but to no avail. It was like oil on a sheet of glass.
I slowly slid through the intersection, feeling very much like one of the pots they use for curling competitions on tv.
I was headed for the bar ditch on the far side and realized I was going to be a bull’s eye for anyone who was going north or south on the crossing street.
There was a car in the ditch already, but I was going to miss it and gritted my teeth in anticipation of the ditch.
Remarkably, the wheels stopped dead less than six inches from the lip of the ditch. You go, minivan!
A couple of guys popped out of the car in the ditch and pushed the minivan enough to get it aimed north. They need some tools to try and dig their car out, so the two of them climbed into the one passenger seat and I took them to their house.
They decided they’d rather walk back than ride, so I headed on my way.
From North Pott County to Meeker, the roads were slick but passable. I stopped at the convenience store in Meeker for a photo and cup of coffee and almost back-flipped a couple of times on the ice.
Then on to Chandler, with a stop for a photo of traffic on the slick roads.
It was about 10:30 and there were few people about in Chandler, so I got a couple of photos and worked in the office until it was hamburger time.
Then I decided I could finish the rest of the day working at home.
The roads were better but still slick, and the car stuck in my neighborhood ditch was still stuck.
I patted the Dodge’s dashboard and thanked it for getting me home safely yet again.