So, I was just outside for a bit, puttering about in the yard. Even though the current temp here is 16° with a wind chill of 4° (fear not northern friends, the forecast calls for 60° by Friday #sorrynotsorry) checking to see if the recycle bin has been picked up yet (it hasn’t) and at one point I sat down and just kind of looked at my backyard. Now, to paint the picture, I knew I wouldn’t be out for long, so I just threw on my old Carhartt overalls since I’m still wearing shorts and didn’t feel like getting dressed yet on account of I also knew I
A.) Wouldn’t be outside for very long
B.) They’re very comfortable
C.) They’re very warm
D.) I was kind of looking for an excuse to wear them since I haven’t needed them in a while.
I got them several years ago, when I used to do fire investigations on my days off. The job required working outside in, occasionally, extremes of weather. From blazing hot, sunny, humid, August days to blistering cold, sub-zero, January days. My Carharrts came in handy for the latter, not so much for the former. They served me well for many years worth of winters in that job and now, like me, are retired to softer duty.
But as I sat there taking in my view, I noticed the fly was open. This is not unusual for this particular garment. They came with a button fly instead of a zipper. I don’t know why. But one of the first things I learned was that; due to the nature of that particular job, including the weather conditions that would necessitate their use, it was far better to leave the button fly undone rather than fumbling with the buttons with cold-numbed fingers in case, ya know, nature called. Just sayin. But this got me to thinking… what the heck was the response, back in the day, when the zipper fly was first proposed?
“Wait, what? You’re going to put that thing, with those teeth, where? Seriously?”
The things I think.
Winter reared its ugly head here in the southeast this past week. In addition to the above mentioned temperatures, we got our first measurable snowfall a couple of days ago. And I use the term “measurable” loosely. It’s all a matter of perspective as I’m learning. Down here the maaayyybe one inch of snow crippled the town. I was sitting here at the house that evening and one of my neighbors stopped in. She said the streets were a mess and on her short trip from one end of town to the other, she saw as many as a dozen fender benders. I’m sure the incredulous look on my face accurately described my surprise at hearing that. She also said there was a young girl (16 years old or so) parked (in the turn lane) down at the end of our street, in tears because she was too freaked out to drive further. My neighbor stopped to check on her, she was unhurt, but was waiting for her Dad to come pick her up and drive her the last several miles home. We walked down to see if we could help, and I ended up driving the car back up to my neighbors driveway so it was off the street and she could wait for her Dad in the warmth of my neighbor’s house. To the girls defense, this was probably her first time ever driving on snow, so I’m not judging or anything. But as I explained to my neighbor, having driven in this crap since I was 16, I was fairly confident in my ability to negotiate the three hundred yards or so I’d need to drive.
Now, curiosity doing what it does, I decided I needed to drive to the gas station, about a mile down the road, to see how bad things were here. In that two-mile round trip I saw two more cars on the side of the road, for no apparent reason, with the four-way flashers on and another fender-bender. And, as I drove over the interstate, I glanced down and saw an eighteen wheeler that may have been facing the wrong way.
It snowed for maybe an hour and had stopped by the time I got out. I knew coming down here, people weren’t accustomed to driving in this mess. But this really kind of set the bar for just how inexperienced folks here are at dealing with snow. I guess if I had to draw a parallel from back home, this was the equivalent of a 10″-12″ snowfall in northern Illinois. But instead of hitting a slick spot and driving into a snow bank, these folks just parked where they were and flipped on the four-ways to, I don’t know, wait till it melted? The one car I saw appeared to be a guy in his 20’s or 30’s and I thought to myself “who the heck are you waiting for to come rescue you?”
I really wanted to stop and ask if he needed help, but I didn’t think I’d be able to keep a straight face. Ok, maybe I am judging. A little.
Peace
At least you remembered which way the fly was supposed to be facing..
During my 4 years in Fayetteville in the late 60s, I learned very quickly to stay off the roads when there was the slightest bit of snow and/or ice. I could handle it but not most of the other drivers. They were what made things dangerous for driving.
And I still remember the young woman trying to get up the hill by my apartment by getting in front of her car with a spray can of stuff to use on the road in front of her front wheels
In South Arkansas a 1 inch snow becomes Snowpocalpse where the weak are eaten with the last of the milk and bread for a 2 days drive.