Slip, sliding away

I went to bed last night after watching no fewer than four weather forecasts to see if the roads were going to be bad this morning. Almost all weather swamis (calling them forecasters gives them too much credibility) said the morning commute wouldn't be too bad, but the evening commute would be a nightmare. Guess what? They were wrong. It's now taking everyone an hour to go five or 10 miles. You know why? Because the people who plan the snow removal listen to the same forecasts we, the general public, do. So when the weather swamis goof up, the road crews get a late start.

As I was writing this post, my wife called to double check directions to a place she is driving to today in Ashland. As I was about to hang up with her, I heard a crack sound and she said, "Oh my God, I was just hit! I'm OK." We hung up so she could check for damage. She called right back to say there wasn't any, but the guy who hit her will be buying himself a new hood. My fear for her safety was magnified because she is six months pregnant. She really is OK, too, because she was wearing her seatbelt (a must by all passengers in our vehicles), she was stopped and the car barely moved when he hit her because he basically used her car to stop sliding.

Then I got to thinking about the fact that she was driving to Ashland in this weather on surface roads because the highways are so clogged. She normally works out in the boonies anyway, but Ashland is much further out. Makes me realize the price we pay for urban sprawl, and the fact that since most of the people she works with live in the sticks, they think it's no big deal for those of us in the immediate Boston area to make the trip. I think she should have turned around and called it quits after being hit, but I didn't even suggest it to her because she is too dedicated and conscientious to do so. I, however, feel like George Bailey, and I want to give her boss a piece of my mind the way he did to Zuzu's teacher.


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