The Long Ride Home
I'm not going to exaggerate. It's not that we were near death. After all, we were only going about 5mph. But I was dreading the inevitable walk uphill in heels and no coat on the ice rink that was Poocham Road.
Saturday night we went to dinner at The Chesterfield Inn, one of my very favorite places to eat. For one, they have dishes like Roasted Butternut Squash Ravioli with a Sun-Dried Cranberry Butter Sauce and Rosemary & Walnut Crusted Rack of Lamb with Merlot Glaze and Red Onion Marmalade. I mean, really? Who wouldn't want to eat there! But two, I like it because it's small....it's quiet....it's relaxing....you get a lot of attention and personalized service. For example, George favors the salmon, but it's not always offered. But if you call ahead, they will make every effort to have it for you. He called ahead and gave them a salmon heads-up as well as a gluten-free heads up. So, when we sat down to our lovely bread basket, there was a basket of gluten-free bread there for Evan too. Small things like that are so appreciated. Genius really.
Saturday night we went to dinner at The Chesterfield Inn, one of my very favorite places to eat. For one, they have dishes like Roasted Butternut Squash Ravioli with a Sun-Dried Cranberry Butter Sauce and Rosemary & Walnut Crusted Rack of Lamb with Merlot Glaze and Red Onion Marmalade. I mean, really? Who wouldn't want to eat there! But two, I like it because it's small....it's quiet....it's relaxing....you get a lot of attention and personalized service. For example, George favors the salmon, but it's not always offered. But if you call ahead, they will make every effort to have it for you. He called ahead and gave them a salmon heads-up as well as a gluten-free heads up. So, when we sat down to our lovely bread basket, there was a basket of gluten-free bread there for Evan too. Small things like that are so appreciated. Genius really.
But I'm burying the lead here. We got dressed and ready to go about 6:00 or so. We slipped into coats, mittens, scarves and hats and the five of us headed out to the Lincoln Aviator. (Well, that is, everyone but me. I figured we were going from house to car to restaurant and I was layered up, so I left my coat at home. I wouldn't need it for a few seconds outside.) George drove with David in the co-pilot seat. Nancy and I were in the middle seats and Evan was in the back, happy to have his ipod. We all buckled in with mouths watering.....off to the inn! The beautiful, white, fluffy snow was starting to come down in the form of little noisy ice pellets (more common to Texans). The roads were getting slick. (Oh, and when I say "roads" don't think LBJ Freeway. Think "the road less traveled" like the photos that I posted earlier in the week.) We slid down the muddy, icy, snowy roads to the highway. From Westmoreland to the inn in Chesterfield is less than 10 miles or so. It's not far at all, and most of it is on the highway. But getting to and from the highway on slushy (or muddy) roads can prove tricky. We drove slow and with a few twist and turns made it to the restaurant to enjoy the aforementioned meal. And by enjoy, I mean, if there was any way I could have picked up my plate and licked it clean, I would have.
And just like before, we slipped into coats, mittens, scarves and hats and the five of us headed out to the Lincoln Aviator. David took the driver's seat this time and George was co-pilot. Nancy, Evan and I assumed our usual positions. We headed out onto the highway and back to the farmhouse. Like the travel to the restaurant, the highways were fine. When we turned onto the first dirt road, we were pleased to find the roads were sanded. And while David still drove carefully, there was less concern going than coming.
The line dividing Chesterfield from Westmoreland was obvious. While Chesterfield roads had been perfectly sanded, Westmoreland roads had not. They were like sheets of ice.....smooth and slick and anything but level. And there begins the drama that will be told years from now starting something like "Remember that time we were coming home from the Chesterfield Inn in the ice storm and we almost went over the bank and crashed...." The reality is, it wasn't that bad. I'm not going to exaggerate. It's not that we were near death. After all, we were only going about 5mph. But the next few minutes did feel like an hour. That mile or two to the farmhouse was about as tension filled as I've experience in a long time. Here's my version of what happened:
David noticed the abrupt change from sand to ice and started to break. Unfortunately, there was a curvy hill to get down. I remember David saying mostly to himself, "....if I get any momentum at all I'm not going to be able to stop...." and at that we slid slowly and slightly sideways. Nancy dropped her head in her hands. Evan popped up from the ipod and made a sound. "It's just slippery ice, " I said. "Your Daddy is a good driver." Truth is I meant it. He has driven me to and from work so many times this winter that I knew it would all be fine. And if it wasn't, there wasn't anyone else who could do any better. He's my own personal ice road trucker! No worries. But David, who was actually the one doing the work, didn't seem to be feeling my confidence. His strategy was to keep the two right tires into the snow on the side of the road and try to get a little traction that way. The road was a solid sheet of ice. It was literally ice skate-able (is that a word?). Well, it would have been if it was level. It was more ice "sled-able" I guess. (That's gotta be a word.) It was the left wheels that were giving him trouble. That giant car was picking up speed naturally as we headed down the hill. More swerving. More calming Evan. More Nancy with head in hands. I wasn't too worried yet.
We sat as quiet as we could letting David and George talk it out. We made it slowly down the first (and to be fair) largest hill. "It's all level from here," George announced, "That was the hard part. That was the hill." We collectively sighed. Until a few seconds later, I noticed the road practically dropped off ahead of us......"Um.....looks like a hill to me," I thought. It was Hill #2 and we repeated all the above. We were all stressed at this point. David calmly steered and swerved. I'm not sure if it was my nerves, or true, but we seemed to swerve more and have more trouble on the second hill. There seemed to be even less traction. The roads seemed to be getting worse by the minute. I knew that David was a good driver. I knew we weren't nearing death. We were going as slow as you possibly could in a car that large on that incline. But I was starting to figure an accident of some sort was looming. There seemed to be one hill after another. More swerving. More tension. Less traction. More head holding. David seemed to be more vocal, which seem to worry me a little more. He wasn't as "calm" as he had been. I scanned the far back again to make sure Evan was securely buckled. He was still glued to his ipod. Looking up only occasionally on the big swerves. I usually hate that thing, but I was glad he had it to occupy him now.
I surveyed the area and decided worse case, we'd hit an electrical pole. Best case, a snow bank. And I was dreading the inevitable walk uphill in heels and no coat on the ice rink that was Poocham Road. Why is it every time there is a pending accident I don't seem to be in a coat! I should start wearing a coat ALL the time. This never happens when I have a coat on! We were so close to the house, we'd surely have to walk there and wait for a truck to pull the car out. It was going to be a long night. It's not that my faith in David's driving was lessening, it was that my observation of how bad the roads really were was drawing me to the logical conclusion: We are about to get in an accident. As I am writing this today, I can't really remember just how long the trip actually took, but it seemed to take forever. One hill after the next. I'm not sure if each one gave David more confidence or beat him down further, but one after another we made the hilly, curvy road to home. There were collective cheers as we pulled into the drive. "We made it!" (I'm sure David was thinking, yeah, we made it.) We all piled in the warm house and pulled off wet shoes and socks while David "took a few minutes" to clean off his car and "unwind". It had been a long ride home.
I try not to exaggerate too much on these stories, because I want them to be true. There is enough drama in the realities of these weather/traffic stories. And I am absolutely convinced that one day, if I live here that long, I will be in an accident on the icy roads. It seems inevitable to me. It's like the guy that works on the industrial saws in a factory for all of his 40-year career. That guy's probably missing a finger. Right? Par for the course. It's like tornado stories in middle America or earthquakes in California. Most people have one...be it manageable or severe. When you live up here, and drive in the snow and ice every winter, you're bound to have a few accident stories. Hopefully, they won't be bad accidents - just one for good blog stories like the two near misses I've had so far this winter.
And just like before, we slipped into coats, mittens, scarves and hats and the five of us headed out to the Lincoln Aviator. David took the driver's seat this time and George was co-pilot. Nancy, Evan and I assumed our usual positions. We headed out onto the highway and back to the farmhouse. Like the travel to the restaurant, the highways were fine. When we turned onto the first dirt road, we were pleased to find the roads were sanded. And while David still drove carefully, there was less concern going than coming.
David noticed the abrupt change from sand to ice and started to break. Unfortunately, there was a curvy hill to get down. I remember David saying mostly to himself, "....if I get any momentum at all I'm not going to be able to stop...." and at that we slid slowly and slightly sideways. Nancy dropped her head in her hands. Evan popped up from the ipod and made a sound. "It's just slippery ice, " I said. "Your Daddy is a good driver." Truth is I meant it. He has driven me to and from work so many times this winter that I knew it would all be fine. And if it wasn't, there wasn't anyone else who could do any better. He's my own personal ice road trucker! No worries. But David, who was actually the one doing the work, didn't seem to be feeling my confidence. His strategy was to keep the two right tires into the snow on the side of the road and try to get a little traction that way. The road was a solid sheet of ice. It was literally ice skate-able (is that a word?). Well, it would have been if it was level. It was more ice "sled-able" I guess. (That's gotta be a word.) It was the left wheels that were giving him trouble. That giant car was picking up speed naturally as we headed down the hill. More swerving. More calming Evan. More Nancy with head in hands. I wasn't too worried yet.
We sat as quiet as we could letting David and George talk it out. We made it slowly down the first (and to be fair) largest hill. "It's all level from here," George announced, "That was the hard part. That was the hill." We collectively sighed. Until a few seconds later, I noticed the road practically dropped off ahead of us......"Um.....looks like a hill to me," I thought. It was Hill #2 and we repeated all the above. We were all stressed at this point. David calmly steered and swerved. I'm not sure if it was my nerves, or true, but we seemed to swerve more and have more trouble on the second hill. There seemed to be even less traction. The roads seemed to be getting worse by the minute. I knew that David was a good driver. I knew we weren't nearing death. We were going as slow as you possibly could in a car that large on that incline. But I was starting to figure an accident of some sort was looming. There seemed to be one hill after another. More swerving. More tension. Less traction. More head holding. David seemed to be more vocal, which seem to worry me a little more. He wasn't as "calm" as he had been. I scanned the far back again to make sure Evan was securely buckled. He was still glued to his ipod. Looking up only occasionally on the big swerves. I usually hate that thing, but I was glad he had it to occupy him now.
I surveyed the area and decided worse case, we'd hit an electrical pole. Best case, a snow bank. And I was dreading the inevitable walk uphill in heels and no coat on the ice rink that was Poocham Road. Why is it every time there is a pending accident I don't seem to be in a coat! I should start wearing a coat ALL the time. This never happens when I have a coat on! We were so close to the house, we'd surely have to walk there and wait for a truck to pull the car out. It was going to be a long night. It's not that my faith in David's driving was lessening, it was that my observation of how bad the roads really were was drawing me to the logical conclusion: We are about to get in an accident. As I am writing this today, I can't really remember just how long the trip actually took, but it seemed to take forever. One hill after the next. I'm not sure if each one gave David more confidence or beat him down further, but one after another we made the hilly, curvy road to home. There were collective cheers as we pulled into the drive. "We made it!" (I'm sure David was thinking, yeah, we made it.) We all piled in the warm house and pulled off wet shoes and socks while David "took a few minutes" to clean off his car and "unwind". It had been a long ride home.
I try not to exaggerate too much on these stories, because I want them to be true. There is enough drama in the realities of these weather/traffic stories. And I am absolutely convinced that one day, if I live here that long, I will be in an accident on the icy roads. It seems inevitable to me. It's like the guy that works on the industrial saws in a factory for all of his 40-year career. That guy's probably missing a finger. Right? Par for the course. It's like tornado stories in middle America or earthquakes in California. Most people have one...be it manageable or severe. When you live up here, and drive in the snow and ice every winter, you're bound to have a few accident stories. Hopefully, they won't be bad accidents - just one for good blog stories like the two near misses I've had so far this winter.
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J :)