NuclearNed
Raconteur
A little over a year ago, Mrs. Ned and I bought a house fairly high up on the side of a mountain in Tennessee. For what happened last night, the layout of our property is important. To get there, one must first take a steep county road to our property. From there, through a gate an even steeper private road heads straight up the mountain. This road has a deep ditch on one side and a shallow ditch on the other, either of which would greedily gobble up a vehicle and leave no trace. In the midsection of this road, a yet even steeper driveway branches off to the right side and leads up a hill to our house. Getting there is kind of akin to climbing K2.
Perhaps you believe that fire-breathing dragons circle the night skies in Tennessee, scorching everything below them in their flight paths. Maybe some of you folks think that there is a super-volcano slowly climbing its way to the surface beneath my house, keeping me toasty in the winter. There are probably even a few of you nutjobs who believe in this outlandish theory of man-made global warming. Whatever the case may be, there is no doubt that we just don?t get that much snow here anymore. I guess it is because of this that my unused snow-driving skills have eroded over the years. I?ve kind of forgotten just how treacherous it can be to drive on ice.
A year ago we had a very minor snowfall. I was forced to stay late at work that night, and I remember stewing with frustration caused by whatever it was that I was working on at the time. Mrs. Ned thoughtfully called me at work and let me know that the driveway was icy, and that my little light truck probably couldn?t make it to the house. She hadn?t been able to make it with her 4-wheel-drive Jeep. By the time I finally got to leave work, the roads were fully glacial, and I was in a righteous mood fit for strangling fluffy baby lambs with my bare hands. I remember grumbling something under my breath about the wife?s obviously gender-induced lack of driving skills as I gunned it up the hill on the private road. As though shoved by the hand of Fate, I was soon off the side of the road. Within seconds, the reality that my truck was probably now a permanent fixture in the deep ditch was overshadowed by the awful realization that Mrs. Ned had watched the whole thing from the porch. I was going to need to buy some flowers.
Never let it be said that I don?t learn from my mistakes.
Last night, the scenario was pretty much the same ? light snow had covered the driveway, and based on the prior experience I knew there was no way I was going to be able to make it to the house. Instead, it seemed like a good idea to drive up the private road to the driveway, turn the truck around, then park at the bottom of the hill. This time the wife was at work, so even in the worst case scenario there would be no witnesses.
I slowly worked my truck up the hill on a solid sheet of black ice. I was making good progress, when suddenly the tires began spinning and I knew the plan wasn?t working. No problem ? I would just back the truck down the hill and park anyway. Gravity had other ideas. As I backed down, the truck started to slip sideways, getting dangerously close to the gaping maws on either side of the road. I was able to get it to come to a stop, with the truck in the middle of the road at a 45 degree angle with either ditch. My truck is light enough that on ice I?ve been able in the past to push on the back end and move it to the side to straighten it up. This seemed like a good idea, and over the years I?ve done about a million squats in the gym for exactly this type of situation. I jumped out and did exactly that ? I pushed the tail so that the truck was now perfectly in the middle of the road, pointing in the right direction.
Exhausted from the effort, I walked downhill from the truck a few paces and stood in the middle of the road, bent over, looking down, and breathing heavily in the cold night air. Delusions of super-strength danced in my head. I was very pleased with myself and would have a good story for the guys at the YMCA. Nobody would ever know how close I had come to the ditch. Nobody. Then the nagging alarms started going off. I looked up just in time to see the truck, once again sliding sideways, barrelling down on me at an alarming speed. I was in serious danger of being pushed under and run over by my own vehicle. I grabbed my wits, opened the driver?s side door, jumped in, and tried my best to steer the truck to someplace more pleasant than either ditch. The truck now spun completely out of control, landed in the shallow ditch, and came to a rest against a wooden fence in my front yard.
As if on cue, right then the wife made the turn off the county road and pulled up next to the scene of the accident. I?m going to need more flowers.
Perhaps you believe that fire-breathing dragons circle the night skies in Tennessee, scorching everything below them in their flight paths. Maybe some of you folks think that there is a super-volcano slowly climbing its way to the surface beneath my house, keeping me toasty in the winter. There are probably even a few of you nutjobs who believe in this outlandish theory of man-made global warming. Whatever the case may be, there is no doubt that we just don?t get that much snow here anymore. I guess it is because of this that my unused snow-driving skills have eroded over the years. I?ve kind of forgotten just how treacherous it can be to drive on ice.
A year ago we had a very minor snowfall. I was forced to stay late at work that night, and I remember stewing with frustration caused by whatever it was that I was working on at the time. Mrs. Ned thoughtfully called me at work and let me know that the driveway was icy, and that my little light truck probably couldn?t make it to the house. She hadn?t been able to make it with her 4-wheel-drive Jeep. By the time I finally got to leave work, the roads were fully glacial, and I was in a righteous mood fit for strangling fluffy baby lambs with my bare hands. I remember grumbling something under my breath about the wife?s obviously gender-induced lack of driving skills as I gunned it up the hill on the private road. As though shoved by the hand of Fate, I was soon off the side of the road. Within seconds, the reality that my truck was probably now a permanent fixture in the deep ditch was overshadowed by the awful realization that Mrs. Ned had watched the whole thing from the porch. I was going to need to buy some flowers.
Never let it be said that I don?t learn from my mistakes.
Last night, the scenario was pretty much the same ? light snow had covered the driveway, and based on the prior experience I knew there was no way I was going to be able to make it to the house. Instead, it seemed like a good idea to drive up the private road to the driveway, turn the truck around, then park at the bottom of the hill. This time the wife was at work, so even in the worst case scenario there would be no witnesses.
I slowly worked my truck up the hill on a solid sheet of black ice. I was making good progress, when suddenly the tires began spinning and I knew the plan wasn?t working. No problem ? I would just back the truck down the hill and park anyway. Gravity had other ideas. As I backed down, the truck started to slip sideways, getting dangerously close to the gaping maws on either side of the road. I was able to get it to come to a stop, with the truck in the middle of the road at a 45 degree angle with either ditch. My truck is light enough that on ice I?ve been able in the past to push on the back end and move it to the side to straighten it up. This seemed like a good idea, and over the years I?ve done about a million squats in the gym for exactly this type of situation. I jumped out and did exactly that ? I pushed the tail so that the truck was now perfectly in the middle of the road, pointing in the right direction.
Exhausted from the effort, I walked downhill from the truck a few paces and stood in the middle of the road, bent over, looking down, and breathing heavily in the cold night air. Delusions of super-strength danced in my head. I was very pleased with myself and would have a good story for the guys at the YMCA. Nobody would ever know how close I had come to the ditch. Nobody. Then the nagging alarms started going off. I looked up just in time to see the truck, once again sliding sideways, barrelling down on me at an alarming speed. I was in serious danger of being pushed under and run over by my own vehicle. I grabbed my wits, opened the driver?s side door, jumped in, and tried my best to steer the truck to someplace more pleasant than either ditch. The truck now spun completely out of control, landed in the shallow ditch, and came to a rest against a wooden fence in my front yard.
As if on cue, right then the wife made the turn off the county road and pulled up next to the scene of the accident. I?m going to need more flowers.
