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Not interested in four-wheel drive
Most people have some kind of weirdo quirk.
Mine is my insanely freakish snow phobia.
It dates back to an icy afternoon more than 30 years ago when I got in my car to drive home after school — even though my dad had told me, in his most serious dad voice, not to move the car if the weather got bad.
Because I was nearly 17, invincible and, OK, stupid, I ignored my dad’s instruction.
In the midst of all the snow and ice, I barely moved the car and promptly smacked a post. Probably, I hit the post once.
But at that moment — watching my car slide helplessly toward the post — I felt like my car kissed that pole at least six times, from every angle.
A few years later, I lost control of my car on the interstate and faced oncoming traffic, completely petrified.
So yes. I have a paralyzing fear about driving in the white stuff because I know I turn into a complete moron.
“You won’t be afraid anymore,” he said. “You’re driving a tank.”
Well. He was wrong.
Last week in the middle of the big snowstorm, I crawled along at four miles per hour, trying not to pee my pants. I did not feel safer in Hank. In fact, I was pretty darn convinced that Hank might flip over.
When Hank suddenly slid down a hill sideways, jumped a ditch and came to a stop in a field, I hysterically dialed the farmer.
“Come and get me, I’ve pulled off the road into this parking lot,” I said (because I made one of those wifely decisions to delete the drama).
“You can do it,” he said. “You can drive home.”
“I guess I’ll just walk the rest of the way,” I slobbered.
“Where are you?” he asked.
I explained that I got off the main road. I thought I might freak out less if I was virtually alone on a country road.
Apparently it wasn’t a winning decision, especially when the snow plows and salt trucks were everywhere except where I was.
“Remember how to turn on the four-wheel drive?” he asked.
Unless Hank had some kind of sleds attached or maybe some apparatus to leave the ground and fly home, I wasn’t interested.
And I certainly didn’t want the farmer to know the full story about exactly why my blood pressure was through the roof.
He instructed me to drive back toward civilization and find a safer road.
I managed to get out of the field without getting buried in a drift. I snailed my way in the opposite direction and found a much more manageable route to get home.
But I certainly was not willing to admit that any of the farmer’s advice was worthwhile.
Later that evening, in my attempt to guilt him for not rescuing me, I accidentally let the truth slip … that I didn’t actually park in a parking lot.
So the focus suddenly shifted from my snow phobia to the fact that I, well, lied.
Mother Nature spanked me, no doubt about it.
I can’t take any more drama.
I am a fair weather driver.
And I won’t be driving anything but a dog sled in that kind of weather.
One Response to “Not interested in four-wheel drive”
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1February 9th, 2009 at 12:20 pm
Greetings Sherri!
HAR HAR HAR!! Love the honesty!! It tickles me so much to hear someone admit their short comings and be able to laugh at themselves. I’ve missed that so much!
I’m so happy I FINALLY FOUND YOU!!!!
I read your columns for years on the “Almost” Daily Journal, and lost track of you. I was so disappointed that you no longer wrote for the Journal, that I canceled my subscription.
Finally, at a New Year’s Day dinner at my parents’ house, my mother mentioned that she was driving to Greenwood to pick up a copy of the Southside Times…….because YOU WERE THERE!!! I never did find out how she knew about this, but no matter.
I didn’t know that you were writing for them! I”M SO PLEASED! My Mom usually picks up a copy for me too now, but I’m glad to have found the Southside Times on the net. I was afraid maybe I’d never read you again.
I’m sure you’re very busy, and don’t have time for long emails, but I was so thrilled to have found your work again to make me laugh and make me cry……I just wanted to drop a line and say…..THANK YOU! THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE!!!!!!!!
Have a great spring,
Marie Polson