It's snowing in Virginia. Buckle up, everyone.
I've lived in the DC area off and on for a span of about 4 years since 1999. And throughout that time I've been more than happy to point and laugh at what the people here call "winter" or a "heavy snowfall". As a native Mainer, one who has lived through a variety of ice storms and blizzards in her time in New England, I feel like I carry a lot of street cred.
Well, I felt I did. Until now.
Driving. My parents really didn't let me drive in the snow. Something about that only child thing again. Consequently, I have little snow driving experience and, upon seeing the lightest and friendliest of flakes fall, I get a bit of panic in my belly. "Do I know what to do? Do I have the right tires?" Overall, I feel like I have a pretty good head on my shoulders for this stuff, but I'm also really fearful of people around me doing stupid things. After all, I live in Virginia. During a solid but hardly paralyzing storm last year, one man just got out of his car and left it on the Wilson Bridge. It was working just fine; he, however, was not.
So, as I take it slow and leave ample distance between me and the cars in front of me, I pray that the native Maine blood kicks in when I need it. I also sit and wonder why I ever thought driving to Maine for Christmas instead of flying was a wise idea. Stay tuned.
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1 comment:
Um, yeah, my car that works fine in MA snow skidded past Uncle Nick's driveway in Long Island snow (i.e., wet flakes that kind of sort of covered the ground). Go figure.
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