Winter Woes

Tis the glorious season of winter, the time of year when the cold creeps over the land and even the sun hides away for most of the day. Yet, when the delicate snowflakes drift down from the sky, it’s a special kind of magic, a snowglobe come to life.

I’m one of those rare individuals who actually likes winter (which is probably a very good thing considering I now live in Montréal).

After all, winter has its moments — the serenity of snowfall, the adventurous challenge of cross country skiing, and of course, all those cozy relaxation vibes.

But it also has, uhh, other moments, like snow-castrophes, numb fingers and toes, shoveling struggles and the like, and it’s to those such moments I’d like to dedicate a special kind of remembrance, this *ode to winter woes*.

And so, we’ll begin with the season’s first truly woeful scene…

The Scrooge Snowstorm, Winter’s First Strike

As you may recall, Mother Nature launched a fierce and ferocious winter storm system across North America just days before Christmas, an act I’ve no doubt was orchestrated by the spirit of Scrooge himself. Flights were delayed, roadtrips postponed, and holiday plans utterly disrupted.

I, too, found myself caught in the fallout of the great holiday snowmaggedon. You see, my father very untimely caught covid just days before I was planning to head home, so I decided I’d better drive back later in the week, preferably on Thursday. But, the snow had other ideas. It would be too unsafe to drive back in the middle of the blizzard, so my only option was to wait until at least Saturday morning, Christmas Eve. Even that was pushing it.

After what seemed like a white and windy eternity, Christmas Eve morning arrived, most of the snow settled. The roads weren’t super clear yet, but they were good enough to start my drive.

I grabbed my bags, tucked Mowgli securely in the backseat (yes, he was coming along on the adventure), and headed off for New Hampshire.

Within five minutes, Mowgli started yelping from the backseat, his little meows filled with anxiety. Mind you, Mowgli is not a vocal kitty. In fact, I had never heard him meow, not even once. The occasional play squeak or hunger whine, but that was about it. So if he was meowing, it couldn’t be good.

Like any new pet-parent, I was, of course, absolutely panicking at this point. Oh my god, my poor little baby. What if I’m traumatizing him? What should I do? He’s clearly not OK, maybe I should turn around and leave him with a friend. This is gonna be a loooooong five hour drive. Oh, what should I do? It’s OK, Mowgli, it’s OK.

A few minutes later and I was already on the next stretch of highway. I decided I’d keep going for now but stop as soon as there was a good spot — maybe he just needed to acclimate to the vibrations of the car? Yeah, hopefully that’s it.

Although the snow had stopped sometime in the early morning, the fierce Nor’easter winds were still raging, screaming across the landscape and picking up snow in their fury.

White. Everything’s white. All I see is white.

I was caught in an all-consuming snow squall. Thankfully, I was off the major interstate, and there weren’t too many cars nearby, but still, not ideal.

It only took a few minutes for the outline of fields to emerge once more… the edge of the road, the painted lines, the car in front of me.

Not as bad as driving in a full-on blizzard, but stressful and somewhat scary nonetheless, especially set to the soundtrack of distressing meows.

Wait! What’s that?

A yellow icon had sprung up on my dash.

Oh great. Now what?

It was the weird circular-ish symbol with what looks like an exclamation point. Pretty sure that was the tire pressure one.

OK yeah, it definitely was.

I swear to god, if I get a flat tire…

My exit was coming up in about 15 minutes, and then I’d have about another 10 along a two-way road until I reached the border. I’d stop at the first gas station I saw — there had to be one coming up soon, somewhere on this 90 kph stretch, right?

Wrong.

I reached the border having not seen a gas station.

After zipping through customs (it was Christmas Eve, after all), I pulled over at the border rest area to give Mowgli a snack. He’d quieted down a while earlier, sometime as I was caught up between the stress of whiteouts and looming flat tires, but this seemed to quell the last of his exclamations. (In fact, I wouldn’t hear a peep out of his adorable little face for the remainder of the drive.) Guess he was just hungry, and honestly, I, too, feel like whining when I’ve gone too long without being fed. Fair enough.

So that was one crisis down. Now, on to the tires.

I got off at the very next exit, swinging into the nearest gas station parking lot and pulling up by the air compressor.

The air was free, a nice surprise. Just had to find my tire pressure gauge to figure out which tire(s) was low.

I rifled through the glove box – a funnel, a rag, a wrench, screwdrivers, wait, why on earth do I need *three* screwdrivers, a huge wad of plastic gloves, my manual, insurance, but not the one thing I need. Why is there no tire guage? I always keep it here.

This has happened before. I never touch the tools in my car except for when I need them, and yet, when I go to fill up tires, my gauge always seems to have mysteriously disappeared. The culprit? Well, I can’t prove it, but all I’m saying, is that it always seems to happen after my Dad has done work on my car….

Ugh, why can’t he just leave my stuff where it is?! I mean, thanks for making sure I have THREE screwdrivers, but what I could really use is my TIRE. GAUGE. Ugh.

Guess I’d just have to top off all the tires a bit and hope the light went off.

This was a much better idea in theory. First off, it was absolutely frigid. My hands, regrettably only in relatively thin liners (I couldn’t exactly work this stuff with bulky mittens on), lasted about three, maybe five, minutes before getting so cold I’d have to shove them in my pocket and try not to cry from the biting pain.

Suffering through numb fingers, I tried my best. I was struggling to figure out how to use the damn compressor, though. I heard a hissssss at first. Great, pretty sure I just let air out.

So, it took even longer to make sure I put a little bit of air in each tire. Taking a cue from Mowgli, I was venting my frustration audibly…. some screams slipped out here and there…my torrent of cursing snatched up by the howling wind, dissipating into nothingness…

Back in the car, keys in the ignition, engine on.

Bling. Yellow Light.

Dammit! Maybe a bit more air then.

I tried again. By this point, I was angry, demoralized, and so. fricken. cold. It’s no wonder I started to have a teensy tiny temper tantrum — yes, just like an emotionally exhausted toddler, I was half screaming-half crying in the middle of a gas station parking lot.

This was so stupid and unfair! Why did my tires have to deflate now? Why did it have to be ungodly cold? Why did the snowstorm and covid have to delay my plans so I had to drive in this disastrous weather in the first place? Why couldn’t my tools be where I left them so I had them when I needed them? And why oh WHY, did I have to be a silly independent woman — having to deal with this and fix it by myself is DUMB. AGH!

Yeah, it was a pretty comical sight. In fact, I even started to chuckle at the absurdity of it myself. I felt ridiculous, but was it not a rather ridiculous situation?

After my boiling blood had calmed down and reached more of a simmer, I headed into the gas station, hoping they might have a gauge — and for once, something went right! There she was! $3!

Alas, it was about all you could expect from a $3 gauge. My other one was definitely way nicer.

Finally, though, I felt equipped to wage war with the air compressor once more. Despite having to retreat and regroup a few times (I couldn’t handle more than one tire without taking a break to thaw my hands inside the car for a bit), my mission, at last, met with success.

The light disappeared! Huzzah!

At long last, I was back on the road and heading home for the holidays, having narrowly avoided catastrophe at seemingly every turn.

And I’m happy to say, like a true holiday miracle (although by this point, I think it’s fair to say I’d earned it), the remaining three hours of the drive went by without incident, and both Mowgli and I arrived home to a warm fire, hot homemade meal, and most importantly, a cozy abode safe from the whims and trials of mother nature.

Windowww-nooooooo!

Twas the morning of the great polar freeze. The night before, across North America, temperatures plummeted to record lows, reaching close to -30 C and -45 C with windchill.

Brrrrrrrrr!

My apartment’s older, so it’s not terribly well insulated, especially in temps like those.

I woke up and decided I could brave heading to the gym. All I had to do was survive the five minute walk to the metro stop, and hey, the sun was shining by this point — so it was nice out, right? LOL.

Yeah, it was a brutal walk to and from the metro, but I survived alright.

Upon returning home, I shuffled inside and immediately noticed something was off.

It felt rather cold in the entryway/living room. No, not just cold…drafty.

As though the wind from outside was actively drifting inside, not just permeating through the building’s insulation. This was not good.

My bedroom door was shut. Also strange. I didn’t remember shutting it. I almost always leave it open.

With a sense of foreboding dread building in the pit of my stomach, I cautiously headed towards my bedroom.

Okay yep, it was definitely getting colder.

I peeled open the door —

My middle window, the largest one, was completely loose!

Somehow, the entire bottom half of the window — it’s one of those vertical split windows where the top and bottom slide up or down to open the window — had dislodged from the tracks and was literally dangling there in a weird quasi-suspended state, just barely connected to the top panel (which thankfully was still firmly rooted in place) and sorta resting on the bottom of the window ledge.

What the **** ?!?!?!?!

I was absolutely befuddled. Glanced at my thermostat: 4C. Well, yeah, no shit. Coldest damn day of the year and I’ve got (half) a window more than cracked to let in some fresh air! I mean, my god!

I slammed my door shut (no need to freeze out the living room even more) before rushing over to the window. I was in pure crisis response mode. A bit frazzled, but doing my best not to panic and to focus on problem solving instead.

What happened next is honestly a bit of a blur by now. I was trying to get the window back in place, but I kept getting three sides in line only to have the last section pop out and refuse to go in place — it was just like when you can’t get the lid on a plastic container and proceed to do that eternal dance of adjusting and readjusting the lid, only to be continually thwarted again and again.

Then, after tweaking this little metal mechanism piece, I was finally able to successfully wrestle the window panel back in its place. Phew! I guess maybe this is what had made the window loose in the first place? But I’m still not exactly sure if that’s what happened or what.

It seemed pretty snug and secure for now, but would it hold against the strong winds throughout the rest of the weekend?

Happy ending spoiler alert: It did not budge again! This was an isolated (although extremely untimely) freak incident.

Unfortunately, the damage was already done in terms of having turning my apartment into a semi-livable igloo. And it wasn’t like the temperature was getting any warmer outside, either.

I debated strategy (even got the opinions of a few different friends and family members). The overarching conclusion: insulate the doors, windows, and cracks as best as possible, isolate off the bedroom, and sleep in the living room tonight.

The real problem was that I needed to generate extra heat in the bedroom — the radiators just weren’t gonna cut it. They were doing all they could to keep what little warmth was still inside from seeping out. If ever there were a time to have a space heater, this would have been it.

But alas, I had none.

So, I carried out arguably the most creative insulation patchwork job this city’s ever seen, recruiting every spare towel, pillow, and blanket I could — even my foam sleeping mat and old yoga mat!

In the end, it sorta worked. The bedroom temperature was hovering between 10 and 14C until the next afternoon, but at least the living room stayed nice and toasty… and extra cozy thanks to my snuggly four-legged personal lap heater.

As for the window, when my neighbor, who’s conveniently a repairman, came to look at it, he said it was fine, aside from something else being broken with the sliding part (although I wasn’t worried about that, certainly not a concern until at least spring).

Guess it was mostly just an unfortunate fluke event. Classic.

In hindsight, something about the window had seemed a bit off during the warmer months, but I thought maybe it had to do with the old tenants having an air conditioner in the window.

Well, lesson learned: Ask for repairs before the coldest, record-breaking day of the year….because otherwise, you risk all hell breaking loose, leaving you screaming WINDOH-NOOOOOOOO! into the polar vortex that used to be your cozy bedroom.

Car vs. Ice Round 1

If you drive in the snow for long enough, getting stuck is bound to happen. It’s pretty much a right of passage, is it not? Somehow, I managed to make it through about eight or nine winters without any such incident… I guess I was overdue, and over the course of this winter season 2023, I more than made up for the lost time.

I would first enter into this dance with stuck-in-the-snow destiny on a sunny Saturday in February. I had offered to drop off my old coffee table at my friend’s apartment downtown, particularly as she did not have any means of transport other than the metro, and this would have been particularly cumbersome to carry by hand.

Delivering the table went without incident. The roads were pretty clear, and it had been a few days since we’d actually received snowfall.

Thankfully, I am fortunate enough to have off-street parking. I park behind my building in this small “driveway” area. Crucial to the unfolding of this story, is the fact that this driveway is located in a back alleyway.

Understand that this alley street is never truly plowed. As a result, two giant ruts emerge in the winter from everyone driving through. These ruts work pretty solidly as a makeshift pathway for driving, but unfortunately, they also tend to ice up pretty quickly. It’s almost like being on a forward moving conveyor belt – totally fine when you’re driving forward, but if you have to stop and exit the belt midway through, you’d better buckle up and say your prayers! OK, maybe it’s not quite that extreme, but it’s it’s certainly not easy (and you get the point).

I should also mention that my particular parking spot (located in the middle of the three), means I have *exactly* one option for parking in winter: I have to drive through the alley in a particular direction, carefully line up my car in the tiny crevice of space between building wall and other parked car, and then back into the middle opening. Took me a while to master the method of maneuvering, but after a while, it became pretty second nature.

So now, we can return back to that fateful February day.

Having dropped off the table, I returned home, bobbing along the alley conveyor belt in my Crosstrek (there are so many bumps and grooves it kind of feels like being on an amusement park ride, that part towards the beginning where you haven’t really picked up any speed yet, but are still slowly cruising over some small turns and bumps). Like the seasoned professional (pun-intended) I am, I cranked my wheel slightly at the right moment and pulled into position, perfectly lining my car up in front of my spot. All that was left was to shift into reverse and slowly slide the car backwards until I reached the snowbank.

Shift reverse. Steady gas.

Thwump.

I felt my tires roll over the groove of the first alley “rut” and kept the gas steady with an extra little press…

Uh-oh.

The car wasn’t moving backwards.

F***.

A little more gas.

Nope. Didn’t budge.

Don’t panic, Cierra. Let’s try going forward.

Nope. Still nothing.

Well shit, that meant I was definitely stuck. Whatever little sliver of hope and optimism I’d been harboring, quickly dwindled away, and I was left with only frustration and distress.

What was I going to do?

Naturally, I called my mom in full panic mode. Pretty sure I even face-timed her, just to be sure she understood the full gravity of my situation.

I tried everything I could think of to get some traction under the wheels (even spare kitty litter!), but it clearly wasn’t working. I’d need to recruit someone to help me push…which was literally the last thing I wanted to do on a beautiful weekend day: bother a stranger or neighbor to come help me out.

But, alas, I didn’t have much of a choice other than to reluctantly put on my big girl pants, summon some chutzpah, and do. the. thing. (this is becoming a theme of my life, isn’t it?).

Some greater power must have been looking out for me because my next-door neighbor happened to be moving out that day, and I was quickly able to ask the man I assumed to be her father if someone might be able to come help me get my car un-stuck.

Even better news, his daughter (my soon-to-be ex-neighbor) had special tire traction mats for this very purpose. Yeah, those were being added to my shopping list ASAP.

A few minutes later, my neighbor came around back and helped me line up the mats beneath my front tires. Yet, because things can never be even remotely easy in my case, of course the car still stubbornly refused to budge.

As we did some more “diagnostics” together, it became clear that my back tires weren’t even hitting the ground at this angle, meaning there was no way they were getting any sort of traction there, either.

 So, we moved the pads to the back tires, which gave us our first taste of success. At least those tires were finally gripping and moving in the right direction… but the front tires were still spinning away in the slick icy alley rut.

Our best bet at this point was to push. Unfortunately, my Crosstrek isn’t a super light vehicle, so we recruited her dad to help. Two pushing from the front, one of us on the gas.

Ooof. It was a struuuuggle…and didn’t seem to be working.

On the bright side (literally), the weather was pretty warm and sunny. I, however, was way overdressed for such manual labor, had ditched my coat, and was totally sweating through my sweater by now.

Standing there, drenched in sweat, the pushing felt a bit futile, but I felt better knowing I wasn’t alone in figuring out what to do next.

We kept trying…and then…seemingly appearing out of nowhere, a neighbor from somewhere down the alley appeared.

He was a significantly older gentleman, quite gruff looking, but like my very own Quebecois fairy godfather, he came baring the one thing I truly wished for most in that moment: ✨ a pair of magical heavy-duty metal tire ramps ✨

(That’s the best I can describe them. Needless to say, they were way more serious than the tire mats…and those were what I needed to invest in).

Like my very own Quebecois fairy godfather, he came baring the one thing I truly wished for most in that moment: ✨ a pair of magical heavy-duty metal tire ramps ✨

After my neighbor briefly conversed with him, and I expressed my most profound gratitude (as gracefully as I could manage while heaved against the side of my car, sweating under the winter sun), we placed these serious bad boys under the front tires, double-checked the mats under the back tires, and took our final positions: my neighbor on the gas pedal, me and her Dad at the front.

This was the moment of truth. I felt my insides bubbling with giddy excitement.

Could this be it? Eeeeep, would this finally work?!

I almost didn’t dare to feel excited and hopeful, but I couldn’t help it.

She hit the gas. We gave a gentle shove. The back tires rolled backwards. And then, oh thank heavens!, the front of the car rolled right backwards, easy peasy.

We gradually guided the car backwards, and even though she was just a smidge crooked, she was fully backed into the spot! A huge wave of relief washed over me (and probably a massive surge of dopamine too). A rather unconventional approach to experiencing some winter thrills LOL.

Needless to say, I was beyond grateful for my neighbors coming to my rescue. Even though it was an insanely stressful (and exhausting) experience, by the time we’d finished, I felt all warm and fuzzy inside on account of the kindness I’d received from others in my community… but I still wouldn’t recommend getting your car stuck in the snow just to experience that.

Ice/Snow: 1 vs. Cierra: 0

Car vs. Ice Round 2

After that first February incident, I pretty much vowed to use my car as little as possible until the snow melted. It was a solid strategy, and as it turns out, very successful. Unfortunately, the snow gods weren’t done with me, and given my reluctance to drive my own car, they had to get creative and channel the misfortune through another vehicle…the little blue Honda civic that arrived the first week of March when my brother, Killian, came to visit.

Before we jump to the good stuff, some quick background info to highlight how truly personal all this felt. The Honda civic is my parents’ car, and during my undergrad, I drove it for a few years….I have always hated this car. Even when my Dad first got it (when it was his car, the nice car in the family’s fleet at the time), I did not like it. In my opinion, the visibility is weird, and it does not handle well in the snow. Of course, my Dad swears it handles great, but I disagree. It’s worth noting that it’s only front-wheel drive, too.

OK, but anyways, back to my brother’s visit. Even though it was early March, it was still full-on winter here. Luckily, since my neighbor had just moved out, her parking spot was available in the back for Killian to park in during his stay. This was such fortuitous timing, as parking on the street in the snowy conditions is practically impossible and would be especially difficult in that car.

I received a call from him when he was only a few minutes away, asking where he should park and also expressing his rather urgent need to use the bathroom. Ah yes, I’ve been there before…I tell him to just pull up in front of my apartment on the curb as best he can – there’s still a lot of snow piles that have yet to be cleared – and I’ll bring the car around back while he runs up to use the restroom.

Ugh, yep, still hate this car.

But luckily, all I had to do was circle it around back. Now, I knew parking this thing might be a bit of an issue. As already established, this back alleyway is an absolute mess, and without four-wheel drive, yikes. We’d definitely need to back the car in because otherwise, there would be no way he’d make it out when it was time for him to leave Montréal.

I ended up calling my brother around back to come help me park. I explained what we needed to do and let him experience the issue firsthand. The car really only moved forward (on the rut conveyor belt, of course), and even then, it was already struggling to get through some of the slush and snow. The car ended up taking a few laps around the block as we tried to get the angle right or even just get the car anywhere close to parked.

Thank goodness my brother was up for the challenge because I was feeling defeated before we even began (courtesy of my own getting stuck in the snow incident in this little back alleyway a few weeks prior).

How would we ever park this impossible-to-handle-in-snow car?

But, Killian had many ideas, and eventually we managed to get the car lined up and backing into the far spot on the right of my car.

Wow! It’s actually working! A small miracle!

My elation was short-lived and a tad presumptuous. Just before the civic made it the last little stretch into the back parking lot, my worst fear became reality…

The front wheels starting spinning.

Noooooooooooo, not again. No no no no no. Why????!!!

My heart started beating faster, and I immediately sensed the stress engulfing my body.

How was this happening again?

I simply was not ready to deal with this, still a bit traumatized from last time. Not to mention, the fact that we were soooo close — literally all he had to do was back up maybe a foot or so more — made it that much more triggering. It was practically exactly the same situation as last time.

The alleyway rut had struck again.

Even though I was on the verge of completely spiraling, Killian, with his calm level-headedness and problem-solving logic, managed to keep me from an emotional breakdown.

And this wasn’t like last time, I realized — I wasn’t alone.

Even better, I was with my ultimate teammate, the one person I’ve solved more challenges with over the years than anybody else. If there was anyone I’d want to be stuck (literally!) in a tricky situation with, it’d probably be my brother.

Immediately, we were on the same page: pack snow in around the tires so they’re not just on the ice. He whipped out his little shovel from the car (classic), I grabbed mine from behind my car, and we got to work. (Much to my dismay, I had never gotten around to buying those no nonsense traction ramps for myself…big mistake.)

It was a bit touch-and-go, trial-and-error. Pack some snow, try to go backwards. Spin. Pack some more. Go forwards then backwards. Spin. OK, again. This time, pack snow, Cierra push a bit, get the car rocking, gently press the gas…

…a little bit of momentum beginning to shift…

It’s working!

OK, pause. Regroup. Try again. It’s rocking, now keep pushing…and then finally, I felt the car roll over and out of the alley rut!

Woohoo!! Victory!

Oh sweet relief! We’d done it! The car was nicely tucked away and wouldn’t need to be moved until his departure…we’d already had our first adventure of the trip together and were definitely ready for a drink (or two) …

Ice/Snow: 2 vs. Cierra: 0

Car vs. Ice Round 3

…the morning of my brother’s departure arrived, with a good six or so inches of fresh snow from the day before. Of course. But this, I thought, might actually be good. The fresh snow would mean traction, hopefully enough that we wouldn’t run into issues with ice this time.

We did, however, have to dig out the car, though. Once that was all done, it was time for the moment of truth.

He pulled forward and began to turn, trying to get into our favorite alley rut – it’d be smooth sailing once the car was lined up in the conveyor belt tracks.

My heart dropped a little, but not a whole lot, as I kind of expected it this time…the civic was somewhat stuck at a very strange diagonal angle.

But hey! We have front-wheel drive so this shouldn’t be too bad.

Oh, such a naïve hope, Cierra.

This was somehow way worse. Even though only one wheel was stuck, the car was also basically trying to drive over the corner snow bank… and it definitely didn’t have a high enough clearance for that.

So, we started chipping away at the icy snow mound and trying to pack in snow around the tire. Every so often, we’d pause and try to drive the car. A few times, we’d make a teeny, tiny bit of progress, but the overall prognosis was not looking good. I really wasn’t sure how we were gonna get out of this one, even despite the fact that it was the Cowan sibling duo taking on the impossible.

It was clear packing the snow was not gonna cut it. Time to gather reinforcements. I journeyed back up to my apartment and collected anything I thought might help: cardboard, kitty litter, my old yoga mat, a towel.

First, we tried the cardboard, but it was too thin. The car basically ate it, nearly shredding it. Welp.

Strike 1.

The kitty litter wasn’t doing much of anything, so that was a wash too.

Strike 2.

I felt like the yoga mat was our best bet, but I was struggling to get it lined up around the tire in a way that the wheel could actually grab onto it. Plus, it ended up just shooting out after a few seconds anyways. Another bust.

Strike 3.

OK, maybe the towel could work. I tucked it in around the problem wheel, but no luck.

At this point, I really didn’t know what to do. It thought I might have to walk down to the Canadian Tire nearby and buy traction mats, or we might honestly have to call a tow truck. We were pretty much out of options — the only thing left to try was to rock and push in neutral, together… and at this point, that kind of felt like a hail mary. But we certainly weren’t gonna go down without giving it our all. Plus, the civic was a whole lot lighter than the Crosstrek, so pushing it actually seemed plausible…

Shift into neutral, towel in position, let the rocking begin!

Backwards, forwards, heaveee together.

Gradually, a steady momentum built up, the car gently rocking…and we were getting closer. So so close…I could feel it right at the edge. It was sooooo close to getting up and over the little hill. That’s all we needed, to just get over that one spot!

Soooo close, yet so far.

It was absolutely exhausting…not just physically, but mentally too. Just when our hope would start to fade, we’d crest the little hill partially, but still not quite all the way. It was just enough of a victory to keep us trying.

I was getting tired, though. Very tired. And pretty much ready to give up. Every so often, one of us would let out a part ironic, part genuine anxious-exhausted laugh, the frustration and absurd comedy of the situation vocalized in a single sound.

We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry…this was pretty ridiculous at this point.

Then, at long last, just as the last flame of hope was beginning to die out, we gave a finally big push, and I felt it fully crest the bump!!!

Oh my god. This was it, the big moment. My brain immediately kicked into gear. There wasn’t a second to lose. I braced my body against the car, holding it up in position with my bodyweight, and anxiously yelled,

“Quick! Get in the car and step on the gas slowly! Go!”

There was a half second delay while my brother processed what I was saying, and I could see the lightbulb going off in his mind. I didn’t need to say anything else — he’d caught on to what we needed to do, and he quickly dashed to the driver’s seat.

I was wholly focused on keeping the car from rolling backwards, but before I knew it, I felt the car lurching forward.

!!!

Then, he was turning the wheel, and I gave him a little guidance from the rear, helping to get him lined up in the ruts…and the car was still moving forward, now steadily cruising through the tracks of the conveyor belt.

I don’t think a car driving away from me has ever looked so beautiful. Truly, it was poetic.

He kept riding the path until just before the main road (which was literally about two car lengths), at which point, he finally stopped, hopped out, and with a huge grin, exclaimed,

“I wasn’t gonna take any chances and stop — I just wanted to keep going!”

I wouldn’t have had it any other way. That was absolutely the right call.

All in all, the entire ordeal took us about an hour, but wow, this one hit different. This snow-saster had truly seemed impossible, but through grit, brains, and bit of luck, we’d surmounted the impossible. A sweet, sweet victory.

So, even though the final tally *technically* stands as follows:

Ice/Snow: 3 vs. Cierra: 0

I’m now pretty confident that when I end up stuck on snow/ice in the future, I’ll be able to reassure myself that there’s ~snow~ need to worry because I will figure out a solution.

So, that’s all for this winter’s woes and misadventures. Now, on to the joys of spring and summer. ☀️