Editorial
Front Page - Friday, February 12, 2010
Are We There Yet?
Driving around
Jay Edwards
After the Super Bowl ended, I tried to stay awake to see what the weathermen promised for the workweek ahead. “A dusting,” were the last words from Ed Buckner in The Weather Garden.
About 1:30 a.m., the sounds of that dusting woke me up. I thought it was rain, and grudgingly decided to extricate myself from my curled warm position under the covers to see what was up. Being over 50, I was going to be getting up anyway.
Opening the blinds of our bedroom, my eyes adjusted to the white landscape, and more than dust that covered the yard and street.
Kathy asked what was going on.
“It snowed,” I told her.
“No way,” she said.
The morning light came and I headed out for my ten o’clock doctor’s appointment at UAMS, but not before calling to see if they were open. They told me my doctor was trying to get there, so I headed out. Kathy was staying home, which she was happy about, and I was just as excited about my challenging excursion ahead. What is it with guys and unstable weather anyway? Like when we hear there is a tornado coming and stand around on the front porch trying to get a glimpse of it.
It took me about a half-hour to get from my driveway into the doctor’s office. I was ten minutes early and they called me 40 minutes later. While waiting, I got to listen to Scooby Doo and Shaggy on the room’s TV. It would have been turned off but for the little boy who was glued to it. So I kept up with the snowstorm through Accuweather on my Blackberry.
When they called my name, I followed a nurse into a private room, where she asked me some questions and left. There was a National Geographic, always a safe bet, but the doctor came along quickly anyway. The procedure was minor, quick and only a bit uncomfortable, and I was soon walking back out the front doors to what was now a heavy snowfall. It was a few minutes past 11:00.
Back in my car, I slowly made my way over to Markham – so far so good. Headed towards downtown, I got to the top of the hill where Jett’s Service Station and The Oyster Bar were in sight. The cars in front of me had stopped. Someone hadn’t been able to make that last hill before The Deaf School, and had blocked the lanes. I sat there about three minutes without moving. The snow was getting heavier.
I called the office and talked with Bobby, the paper’s GM, and we decided to send the few brave souls who had made it in home for the day.
Meanwhile, I still wasn’t moving. The guy in front of me in a Jeep turned right, back into the Capital View area. “At least he’s going somewhere,” I thought, and quickly followed.
My goal was to get back to 630 and head west, toward home. Once I got to the interstate, I figured I’d be in good shape.
So I was following the Jeep, hoping he was trying to get to Woodrow, which I wasn’t exactly sure of, but three turns later, we were there.
Going at a top speed of 26 mph, I arrived at the end of 630 and saw that cars were stopping on Chenal. Not good. In these conditions, to quit moving once could mean for the next few days.
So I turned right on Shackleford, which turned out to be a good move. I had to get back over to Chenal, which meant a left on Markham. That was the flattest route to my house, at least to Rahling, plus it would put me in front of a Kroger.
There was a little uncertainty on the incline in front of Bale Chevrolet. The car in front of me was slowing, and I knew I needed more speed, so I passed, hearing the mounds of slush scrape the undercarriage of my low ride.
Soon I turned into the Kroger and its messy parking lot. On my way in the front door, I grabbed some firewood, knowing mine back home was wet.
I grabbed some bread, hot dogs, turkey, a head of lettuce, bacon, a pork tenderloin, two baking potatoes, some coffee and caramel creamer. I wanted more but really didn’t think I could make it all the way home in my car, and I didn’t want to have more than I could lug up the last hill.
I did get about one-fourth of the way up Pebble Beach before my Caddy said, “Have a nice walk.”
So I left the firewood, grabbed the groceries and was home in five minutes – just another day at the office.
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