Back sometime in the late 80s, I flew to Ottawa, Canada to spend some time with my friend Howard. We were late on the way back to the airport and Howard gunned it through the snowy Canadian capitol.
I was white knuckling it, though Howard claimed he was in control.
Nearly 30 years have elapsed since that day. I guarantee Howard, now safely ensconced in Encino, California, doesn’t drive that way on his frequent business trips to the Great White North!
I thought about this as I drove to work today. I lived in Buffalo. I lived in Boston. I lived in Cleveland. I have lived in Connecticut over 20 years. I have lots of winter driving experience.
On I-91, everyone was passing me. I was driving with lots of caution. There was concern as I crossed over a large expanse of sleet to get off at Exit 4.
Where was my winter driving bravado? Aren’t I the guy who used to fishtail just a little in snow, because it was fun?
Maybe it was because of how slippery my driveway was as I pulled out of the garage? Maybe it was the ineffectiveness of the salt/sand that had been applied to the street around my house and even the main roads? Whatever it was, those days of sliding through turns to get to the airport are over.
How long until I worry about breaking a hip?