Boyfriend is off in Saudi Arabia, for work, and so I have his car, you see. It's a brand-new car, not a scratch on it. And while I love having the use of a car in the summer months, it's quite a different thing to be looking for a parking spot here in the city - in the winter - during a snowstorm.
I had asked my friend R whether I should drive in to work yesterday or take public transportation, and he was eloquent in why I should leave the car where it was. Accordingly, I did the opposite, and drove in.
I wasn't going to. I had made up my mind to take the bus. I had dressed for the weather and was leaving on time for the bus... But then I got outside and the streets were clear and quiet, visibility was good, and there wasn't enough snow on the car to make it worthwhile brushing it off, and I thought to myself, "Why are you such an Old Woman?!" And proceeded to get into the car.
I drove to work in first gear all the way. Apparently, only the visible section of my street was actually clear and free of traffic. From every street in NDG, cars poured onto Somerled, and eventually the drive resembled a train more than anything else: everybody inching along in single-file, and hardly any difference between red lights and green lights, we inched forward all the same.
I had a couple of stomach-churning moments going up The Boulevard where I learned on the spot that you have to turn your Traction Control off if you're going to get up a hill. Traction control, you see, stops the wheels from spinning, and also stops the engine from racing, so if you have it on while going up a slippery hill, your can slows and eventually just stops, no matter what you do to the gas pedal. A very disconcerting situation, I can assure you!
After that first learning experience I turned it off and drove the way I had learned how, turning the wheel and spinning the tires like everybody else, and actually got somewhere.
Approaching McGill, I opted to go to the McIntyre garage instead of the Faculty's garage, because the McIntyre opened off Peel, a big street, an important street, much more likely to have been plowed and salted than old McTavish, where the Faculty garage was located.
And at the last moment I opted to use Drummond, one street before Peel, to gain access to the McIntyre, because traffic had slowed considerably ahead of me and I figured there would be less traffic and more room to slide about on Drummond than on Peel.
And good thing, too. I found out when I got into work that Peel had just been closed, and I wouldn't have been able to get access to the garage at all. Whew!
By this time you would be correct in assuming I had "learned my lesson." Yes, I was in fact wondering why in god's white earth I had decided to drive in. R's admonitions rung in my memory, while visions of fender-benders bounced in my head in lively fashion. There was a potential for disaster at every turn, and every inch of the way between turns. I was, sad to say, part of the problem yesterday, not part of the solution. I should have taken the bus. Or stayed home.
In the end, I only worked a half day. The thought of driving home in 5 o'clock traffic with yet more snow under the tires, and in the dark, proved too much for my state of mind, Old Woman that I seem to have become. But my poor nerves needed daylight to steer by, and the drive home was actually uneventful compared to the drive in. I had to take a couple of runs at my parking spot in front of the house (tracking control still off), but I managed to park safely and run into the house crying to Bijou "I MADE it! I MADE it Bijou! And wif no accidents!"
I was never so glad to be in my lonely little apartment with no one to see and nothing to do. I watched tv till I couldn't keep my eyes open, and the only time I'm sticking my nose out the door today is to see if the snow-clearing crews had put up no parking signs.
Otherwise, I'm staying put, dry, warm, and safe!
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