The plains can be so finicky. When I left to drive the sixty miles to school yesterday, it was a white-out kind of blizzard. I hate driving in those conditions. Snow drifts across the dirt road, but the dirt underneath gives a false sense of security because I figure it can’t be as bad as ice on pavement. Then, I turned onto the highway that takes me north and it was a disaster.
I was stuck driving in the ruts of the brave who ventured out before me. At times the wind was so strong that I couldn’t see the hood in front of me. Slick and icy, I wondered why the plows hadn’t been out yet. I told myself that this was stupid; I should just turn around and go home. I couldn’t for the life of me, understand why school hadn’t been called off where I teach.
Taking more than twice my normal time, I finally got to Akron and found the snow plows just heading south-figures. Five miles west, there was nothing. Dry roads and no snow. It can be that way here. Sometimes you feel like you are leaving one world and entering one completely different. By the time school let out and I was headed home in the dark, the highways were clear and dry.