Monday, December 24, 2007
The Incredible Journey
I awoke from to the noise of gale force winds Sunday morning. I looked as I let Morris outside as quietly as possible-- so as not to awaken my son and his wife.
Poor Morris went flat on his back when he hit the concrete driveway. Overnight it had rained leaving ice in spots. I listened to the winds howl overhead and the branches creak and clatter. The sounds were ominous.
By 1:30, I'd decided that I'd go ahead and drive to my Stepdaughter's house -- generally it is only a two hour drive. The DOT site had said the roads were in good driving condition.
Gee, little did I know.
I'd told Steph my route I planned on taking and stated *If I'm not there by dark come looking for me*.
What I didn't know is that it had begun to snow and the 50mph+ wind gusts were creating whiteouts and blizzard conditions on the route I'd chosen.
I was in the Gallant Cavalier, as I now have dubbed it. [I'm sure this will amuse my son who was the previous owner of the Cavalier]
I had planned on driving with music playing, but with the roar of the wind and the rattle of the GC, I was terrified of something being blown off the car. Bits and pieces of trees were pelleting the vehicle along with occasional periods of pure white blindness. At one point I wished I could find a spot to turn around and head back to my son's house. But the section of road I'd just gone over was so bad, I was too frightened to face driving it again.
Morris curled up quietly on my heavy winter coat on the passenger seat next to me. He'd lift his head when I cursed or nearly came to creeping crawl. He was a comfort, although I'm not exactly sure why, it wasn't like he could save me!
The roads in fact didn't get better, they got worse. I didn't think I could drive in worse. But thank goodness the other people on the road were not in a hurry or foolish. Perhaps they were afraid as I was.
When I finally pulled into my 'daughters' house I was exhausted with relief. I was pleased though, that I'd just made their place--before darkness.