Monday, March 2, 2015

Snow Plow Nightmare

Today was one of the endless days of winter, that just seemed to go on and on and on. I had to drive my daughter, Kirsten, to her violin lesson; we were late. It was slow going, and the driving was intense. So, we were definitely not in the best of moods. The snow banks were so high that they topped the van in places, visibility was extremely poor, and the snow was encroaching on the road, making our two lanes more like one and a half. Inside the van our back windows were frosted, and the heaters just couldn’t keep up. Needless to say, I was miserable and grumpy.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that we’d missed three lessons already, due to sickness, weather and vacation, we might have opted out of this lesson. I would have. However, my daughter really wanted to go; she said she needed to play her solo and get feedback. (She’s getting ready for NYSSMA, a music competition)
Suddenly, in the oncoming lane, appearing out of nowhere, we saw a Honda van just like ours. It was mired forlornly in the snowbank, its flashers blinking eerily in the fading twilight. We peered through the late afternoon gloominess and shook our heads. “Gosh, Mom. I feel so sorry for them,” my daughter said.
“Me too, honey,” I replied.
We were silent, each lost in our own thoughts, until my daughter exclaimed, “Look! There’s a plow coming towards us!” Sure enough, it was one of the behemoth plows, and it had both wicked-looking blades fully extended, attempting to scrape and push aside as much snow as possible.
“God help that van,” I said. “It’s a sitting  duck.” Helpless to alert the plow, we listened with bated breath, our hearts pounding. Silence. No sounds. Were we too far away to hear a crash?
Luck must have been with everyone that afternoon, however, because we never heard any news of an accident.
So, thank you to the plowmen that work the roads tirelessly, from the wee hours of the early morning to the dark and dangerous hours of nighttime. Thank you for helping to keep them safe. Most of all, thank you for being alert; looking out for us poor souls who are at the mercy of your powerful, frightening, unforgiving, monstrous, blades.


  1. I don't think we have that kind of plow here in Virginia! Thanks for this story of luck and gratitude.

  2. I don't think we have that kind of plow here in Virginia! Thanks for this story of luck and gratitude.

  3. Great title for this piece. I've never seen a behemoth snow plow, but your vivid description of the blades (powerful, frightening, unforgiving, monstrous,) helped me to visualize it. So glad that your slice ended in gratitude and not an accident.

  4. Colleen, this is a story that hooked me from the start and kept the suspense up. I hope you shared it with your students.

    1. Yes, I did and they seemed to enjoy it. Gotta model...

  5. Great title...and your descriptions were wonderful. I felt like I was in the van with you looking out the frosted over windows and seeing that poor van stuck. Jackie

  6. Snow plows on snowy days are both a blessing and a curse. I can feel the fear in your words over what might happen to that van. Scary stuff! I'm glad it turned out OK and you and your daughter arrived safely. Stay warm!!


  7. Great slice. I could feel the trepidation that you felt in not being able to help notify the snow plow driver of an upcoming hazard. Our son drives a snow plow and I always worry about the obstacles that could be in his path.

  8. Awesome slice! You had me hooked right away as I felt like today went on forever too. I am in San Diego and was complaining about the rain that we had today. However, your SOL really made me appreciate how my day did not have anything to do with icy roads. I am so glad that you are okay. Please be careful!