Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Put snow with vehicles, and chaos is bound to occur. This past week I and a few people I know have fallen victim to winter related car problems. One of my office managers was traveling on the New Jersey Turnpike when one of the many trucks surrounding him had a bad case of roof dandruff erupt and the resulting accumulated snow landed in his lap after shattering his windshield. Another friend was in an accident as well. The PA Turnpike had a multi-vehicle mishap which snarled traffic for miles as one car or truck after the other slid to stop and could not find enough empty roadway to do so safely.

The problem with today’s drivers is that our speeds are too high, our braking distance too short, and our time shorter (even though we are still on a 24-hour day). Even when a major highway has a low number of vehicles, we tend to speed up to congregate with those ahead of us, and then complain because we have to apply the brakes. If you are complaining because you have to apply brakes, you are too close to the guy in front of you. Slow the heck down.

Truckers do not seem to have access to something with which they can clear their roofs, and I and many a driver on the road with me will fall behind one of these behemoths trailing plumes of light snow or hurling chunks of congealed snow and ice like oversized discus to shatter on the road (or crash into our windshields). What would it take to fix this? Perhaps two tall stationary poles with a large rope strung between them under which a truck could drive and scrape the offensive material off. What about one of those car wash brush attachments hung from the roof of the warehouse or garage? Two guys with hoses on ladders? Come on, folks; it’s snow removal, not rocket science.

So what has been happening to me? In the past three weeks, I have lost two windshield wiper blades to the storm. The first time I pulled into the service station and asked if they had a replacement for my passenger side; they did, but the young fellow (who, I assume, took a job in a service station to learn about cars) could not figure out how to remove the old wiper blade. An older gentlemen from the service bay–and who was apparently born in the days before guys were allowed to attain the age of 18 without knowing how to change a wiper blade–did the job in a minute flat.  Two days ago part of the clamp on the driver’s side blade broke, so though my wiper functions well enough, the arm flies off its track with each swipe. I pulled into the same service station last night; the young fellow asked if I could come back in ten minutes so the other (I assume older) man could help him. By that time, I was fixing dinner. On the stove. Without a microwave. My kitchen skills are old school, while it seemed I was in a world where service stations no longer have simple repair skills.

Finding myself short an able-bodied man to fix my wiper blade (and, though I think that, with the motivation, I could do the repair myself), I figured I still have a good blade without the annoyance of the assembly being unsecured, so I pulled a twist tie from the kitchen and tied the assembly together. It took ten seconds, it was free, and required no skills beyond common sense. With any luck, the next week will restore some to all the drivers out there, and there will be no more of the craziness from snow on the brain.

Snow makes the greatest jailer of all, and we’re all its prisoners. Days of numbing cold and piles of relentless white have enervated everybody in the country to some extent. The people who still have the benefit of warm temperatures have to deal with news of us sufferers dealing with the issue elsewhere, and I’m sure it’s as annoying to watch it as to be in it.

Our latest snow event took place the day after a holiday and gave parents little or no time to restore their lives to normal before the kids were back home again, sent back from school in anticipation of weather-related disasters to come. They were right; a drive home which normally takes me a half hour in New Jersey took me over three that day. Most of it I spent doing the Brake Tap Tango in one jam after another because vehicles ahead of me succumbed to years of neglected scheduled maintenance.

Once secured in the home, there were the relentless hours of snow coverage on the local news. Anybody who slept in with sleep shades and earbuds on and did not look out the window needed only to turn on the tube and, within the half hour, they would know what was going on.

Snow makes for great photos, great human interest stories (a baby was born while the family tried a sled to get the mother down the driveway in the icy cold) and a great deal of physical and mental stress. Fortunately some gentlemen on my block were kind enough to dig me out of the driveway, and the local plows did not touch the street and, therefore, saved me having to relocate the inevitable trench in front of the driveway apron. Snow shovelilng is a good workout for men (who have the heat and stamina to do it) and women who want something other than Curves or Zumba. Fortunately this last storm was powdery and not as icy, so shoveling or sweeping was not such a trying cardio session. I remember years in which the average shovel filled with snow could be used in Olympic weightlifting (in which case I pushed, rather than flung). The overabundance of white, and the closed-in feeling of accumulated snow has a psychological effect on the mind, and sometimes people can get a bad case of cabin fever. This is best resolved by adding device batteries to your bread and milk list before every storm. And don’t play “Candy Crush Saga(R)” if you’re at a level you’ve been challenged upon to beat, as losing multiple times can also add to your depression.

Since I am in a job which requires my presence in any type of weather, I am glad to have the tools needed to clear off my car: an ergonomically designed scraper and brush, a broom, an old reliable hand-held scraper from 1972 (before they invented ergonomics), and a pocketful of tissues (for the runny nose that comes from being out in the cold scraping off the car). The handy pack of window wipes in my glove box froze in the storm, so I took it into the office with me; when I came out to go home, they were room temperature and worked like a charm to remove the road grime from the windows (though I almost forgot myself and nearly dabbed at my nose with one). The rest of the clean-up I leave to the pros in the plow brigade, whom I hope also have a good supply of tissues.