The world had gone white sometime overnight; I could barely see the road ahead. Wipers were useless, as were the other two in the car with me, who had begged me to drive them home. ‘Are you nuts?’ I had said, pointing out that winter’s wrath had befallen my little town. They didn’t seem to care, must have believed I had some kind of magical powers behind the wheel. Buggers, giving me those helpless looks, promising cash and food, and who was I to argue? Broke and hungry as I was.
On the road, snow was descending upon us, screening all that came ahead and only the glow of approaching headlights to guide our way. ‘This was a stupid idea,’ I said to them, my breath coming out in a puff.
‘It’ll be fine.’ ‘What are you worried about?’ A reassurance that fell short, a question fielded by the ignorant. I said nothing back to them, feeling the tires slipping beneath us, just trying to hold the old girl steady. They couldn’t feel it, neither of them had even been behind the wheel before, let alone traversed the world of icy roads and blinding white-outs. In relation to the three of us, that world was mine and mine alone. I would get us through; I would get them home and be the hero of the day.
Headlights ahead, burning through the white-out, two on the left and, oh god, two right in front of us!
Instinct, luck, or the hand of fate, I know not which came into play in that moment, perhaps a touch of all three. My foot slammed the brakes, my hands cranked the wheel and the car, that beautiful old rust bucket, danced. Turning away from the headlights of doom, streaking for the ditch, cranking the wheel again, the brakes pressed to the floor. We came sliding through the snow, to a stop, sideways on the road and all I could do was watch the truck’s tail-lights fading in the falling snow.
I took one look at my passengers, friends that would not take no for an answer and said, stone cold; ‘You two can walk the rest of the way, I’m done.’ No complaints this time, no arguments, just the dull nods of the shocked.
Home had never been so sweet.
Photo Credit
Blizzard – Vaughan Weather- Wikimedia – Creative Commons
Guest Author Bio
Marshall McCarthy
Marshall is an aspiring novelist and writer, who stops by to offer his thoughts, opinions and musings, hoping to share and even gain a little bit of perspective. He is married (to a wonderful woman), lives in South Central Ontario and may or may not have a small addiction to video games.
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LOL, I’ll leave you to decide what to believe about that. 😉
lol, you left your friends on the side of a road in the storm, eh?