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My dad taught me to always start my vehicle and let the
defrost work its magic to avoid as much ice scrapping as possible. However,
this meant braving the outdoors and plunging into an ice box. It meant planning
at least ten minutes ahead—challenging for a Junior in high school on weekday
mornings, especially my first winter driving.
With a flute splayed across my lap, I gazed outside the band
room window. It was the last class of the day, but for hours the gray sky emitted
snow like white lava from a volcano. I turned my eyes to the clock—2:54pm.
Since lunch I kept hoping the snow would stop so I wouldn’t have to drive 17.5
miles in a treacherous winter wonderland. The journey without snow took 25
minutes, but with snow packed roads—it would lengthen the painful process like
a dentist filling an extra cavity.
I pushed down the panic of driving in so much snow for the
first time by repeating the checklist my dad had taught me. Lock tires into four-wheel drive. Shift it
into four-wheel drive. Drive slow. Low gear down hills. Tap brakes.
I tried to focus on playing, but each time the conductor
stopped to reshape a section of the music, my eyes veered toward the window and
clock like a well-worn deer path in the forest. 3:11pm.
As the minutes slid past and the snowstorm refused to
relent, I chanted my mantra. Lock tires
into four-wheel drive. Shift it into four-wheel drive. Drive slow. Low gear
down hills. Tap brakes.
At 3:20pm I put away my instrument for the day and prepared myself
to drive in a large accumulation of snow home for the first time. I can do this. Lock tires into four-wheel
drive. Shift it into four-wheel drive. Drive slow. Low gear down hills. Tap
brakes.
When the bell rang to dismiss school for the day, I speed walked
to my locker to grab my backpack. I didn’t want to delay as with each passing
minute, more snow would fall. As I opened the door to exit the school, a
running car with snow cleared off caught my eye. With a twinge of jealousy that
someone else had already removed snow from their vehicle but that drudgery remained
for me, I trudged toward where I had parked my car.
I noticed a man standing between a cleared off car and
pickup truck. Relief washed over me as I stared in shock. The car was mine. I
closed my eyes and savored the moment my fears calmed.
“Dad, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”
“This is a big snowstorm. Do you remember what I told you
about driving in snow?”
I looked into my dad’s serious, caring blue eyes and nodded.
“We will take the frontage roads home so you can drive as
slow as you need. I’ll follow behind you so no idiot tries to pass you. And if
you slid off the road, I’ll be right behind you.”
This was the best news. I would learn how to drive in half a
foot of snow, but had a safety net.
As I plopped in the driver’s seat, I recited what my dad
taught me. Drive slow. Low gear down
hills. Tap brakes. I put the car into gear and with the help of four-wheel
drive cautiously drove through the snowy parking lot.
As I turned left out of the school parking lot and wove
through the surrounding neighborhood, I prepared myself for the first
challenge: the precipitous downhill climb from the school. I shifted into a
lower gear once I reached the hilltop and began its steep descent down with
sharp corners. My eyes peered into the rearview mirror to see my dad’s truck
trailing behind me anytime anxiety surfaced. Once laying eyes on his physical
presence behind me, my fears subsided.
Once I reached the bottom of the hill, I exhaled deeply as
this felt like the biggest challenge. Confidence grew as I drove along the
frontage roads. As my hazel eyes peered into the rearview mirror, a long line
of vehicles like a funeral procession appeared. I felt guilt-ridden to trap
others in such a slow pace. I gradually increased my speed, but felt the back
of my car start to fishtail. I instantly slowed down and appreciated that my
dad stood in the gap between me and the other vehicles. I was driving the right
speed for my car in the snow. I just needed to stay focused on the road now.
As I parked in the driveway later and my father pulled in
beside me, my heart overflowed with gratitude that he was present to coach me
during my first snow drive. I would do it again and again with confidence because of this day, but I would always remember his truck in my rearview mirror.