The Way Winter Should Be

I drove north from Boston yesterday afternoon in driving 40 degree rain.  A few miles beyond the Maine Turnpike tolls the rain turned to sleet. Two hundred yards ahead–not close enough to threaten collision, close enough to make my heart race–a sedan spun out in the left lane and skidded, back-end first, across three lanes of highway, stopping 20 yards off the shoulder in deep .  Somehow it didn’t hit another vehicle.  I considered stopping to help, call police, console, but a short distance beyond the sedan was a state police cruiser helping another vehicle that had skidded off the road.  I saw a dozen more vehicles that had skidded off the highway, their paths marked by swerving tire tracks through the . By the time I exited the highway the road surface was less treacherous and the storm was over.  I passed a man and snowblower clearing foot-deep from his driveway.  “That’s odd” I thought.  “That is so deep–he must not have cleared it for weeks.” What was odd was how long it took me to acknowledge the obvious.  This storm, only rain in Boston, dumped a foot of in this area of Maine.  The camp road was plowed up to my driveway, the entrance to which was blocked by a three-foot high berm of plowed .

God invented 4-wheel drive for moments like this.  I punched through the snow, negotiated the  driveway, and arrived at the house–where I stepped from the cab into calf-deep snow.  No boots, no gloves, no hat.  Why did I need them?  It was raining when I left home.  I had to shovel out the front door to get into the house.

It’s worth it.  Winter in the Boston area is frozen piles of dirt-blackened snow, plates of ice seemingly welded to road surfaces, the long, slow, painful wait for a thaw.  Winter in Maine is this:

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  • Anand Brahmbhatt

    I think the snowfall was wonderful a few days back, and I have pictures that I took to prove it. Though, having lived in a city my entire life, and now Boston, I hate the snow post-white. I dislike very much when it all turns black. I also hate slipping on ice, though I find myself conquering my fears one day at a time because of this weather. Yes, I just admitted – I'm afraid of ice. I will still not set my foot, or skate I guess, in an ice-skating rink.

  • Sabrina Fong

    That must have been quite a sight to see. In a semi-related story, my friend's father was driving down an icy hill one day in a relatively safe speed. However, he was unable to stop the car from skidding down the hill and accidentally hit another car. Although both parties were uninjured, the other party's car did receive damage. The other party pressed charges for the accident and my friend's father had to pay. When I first heard this story, I was surprised that the father had to pay even though the weather conditions and his skidding were out of his control. But I guess someone has to pay for the damages, even if it was out of anyone's control.