Winter a good reminder of human vulnerability
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Someone once told me that winter is great because it puts us humans in our place. Mother Nature’s power is evident in the icy wind that stings our faces, the blizzards that pile up snow on our sidewalks and the biting cold that chills us to the bone. And when you face that raw power, because you have to brave the elements to accomplish daily tasks like going to work and checking the mail, it puts everything else into perspective. After all, when your day begins with a struggle to lift shovelful after shovelful of heavy white powder so you can back out of a cleared driveway, and the morning commute is a white-knuckled effort to stay between the lane lines — as if you could even see them — it kind of makes you glad that venturing outdoors isn’t this difficult all year.
I found myself thinking just that a little before 7 this morning. I’d pre-heated my car, brushed an inch or so of snow off the windshield and headed out in four-wheel drive, hoping the 500-plus pounds of sandbags in the back of the truck would prevent fishtailing on the slushy road that I could already see hadn’t been plowed in a couple of hours. I live in Polson, and today I opted to take Highway 93 as opposed to my usual Back Road route, hoping the highway would be better-traveled and less snowy. Things were going well as I climbed Polson Hill, squinting into the darkness to pick out the road before me. I turned up the radio and let my mind wander, ticking off a “to-do” list for work in my head.
I watched as the vehicle in front of me sped into the driving snow. How can they see the road? Maybe they’re just using my technique of watching the white line that defines the right edge of the lane, I thought. A split second later, I nearly went in the ditch.
Brrrrrmmmmmmmmppppppppp — the rumble strip on the shoulder sounded muffled under the snow, but I realized instantly the white line I’d been using as a guide was, in fact, the snow line on the shoulder. A chill flooded over my body and I took my foot off the gas. Tapping the brake, I forced myself against instinct to keep the truck steady and not jerk the wheel. Thankfully, it worked. Moments later, I was back on track, going about 10 miles per hour slower, and with a whole new perspective on winter driving.
I’ve had worse near-accidents, but due to the lack of harsh weather we’ve seen so far this winter, this was the first for me in the Mission Valley this year. It was a good reminder of how quickly winter can claim casualties on the road — whether they be a bent fender, a broken leg or even, god forbid, a life.
Take it from me, you don’t want to experience even that brief moment of terror when you realize your vehicle isn’t doing what you want. The new year already claimed a life in a devastating crash on Evaro Hill over the weekend. Wrecks like that aren’t always preventable, but all too often, they are. Drive safe, Montana.
