Crashing!

We were driving back from yet another poking at the Hatchet appointment yesterday, during the latest of our many snowstorms.

Note to Mother Nature: We're over it already! Let's move on to melting and springy type days, here!

Ahem!

We were attempting to turn left onto the big street that runs past our house at the big intersection. The turn lane was unplowed. We kept going. Straight.

Straight as in straight into oncoming traffic in the opposite lane, straight.

Traffic was coming. We were clearly visible heading right for the car in the lane immediately next to their turn lane. That person chose to keep on going. They didn't look, to my wide-eyed-with-fear perspective, as if they were slowing down at all. Perhaps they were on a cell phone? Who knows! So there we were, the three of us, in Eric's car (mine is in the shop getting the rear seatbelts repaired). Sliding. Sliding directly towards oncoming traffic that appeared completely oblivious to our plight. We had begun the turn in good faith and well before that traffic had even rounded the turn further up that road. It was clear that once we started sliding that there was nothing we could do.

Gut clenching, body tensing, gripping the sides of my chair fear struck me.

The anti-lock breaks never came on. It was as if we were on a sled. A big, heavy sled that was headed towards another vehicle at some rate of speed faster than a sled should normally go. I'd like to say that I maintained calm, or was silent, but I wasn't. I was quietly repeating "Shit! Shit! Shit!" over and over again as we slid towards that oblivious driver.

Things looked grim for our brave adventurers, folks!

Somehow we managed to sliiiiiiide to a stop in their turn lane, avoiding the oncoming traffic. Just barely. Caitlin never made a peep. This may have more to do with her having been nose down in a book, as opposed to her great confidence in her dad. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice my quiet, fervent cursing.

After the traffic passed by, Eric slid us around into the far right turn lane to finish our interrupted left turn. We finished the drive in shock. I didn't think we were going to make it. Upon reaching our house the next level of fun began: getting up the driveway.

We didn't make it up. After several frustrating tries and one too many "helpful" comments from Caitlin, she and I exited the car and left Eric to try it solo. When that still didn't work, we broke out the shovels and then he tried again. Still couldn't make it further up than 3/4s of the way. Then the car got stuck, as it slid down the hill again, in the pile of snow left over (and unplowed by the city!) from the 4 previous snowstorms. Neighbors came over to help and took Eric the Mightily Frustrated over to get some ice melting stuff. Ice melting stuff still didn't help, but they helped to shove Eric's car further into out driveway, surrounded by the piles of snow in the street that were never plowed out.

This morning Eric mentioned that he'd never put his snow tires onto his car this winter. Mostly we use my car (I've had snowtires on mine since December, since our trip to Breckenridge), so he didn't think it was a big deal that he didn't have any on his own car.

After awakening from my 3 hour morning nap (Did I mention I'm tired a lot?), I broached the subject with Eric. I wasn't even psychotic about it, but I made it very clear that it's not OK that he hadn't put snow tires on yet. Yes, we do most of our driving in my car, but he does still drive in his and it is not OK with me that he a) puts himself at risk or b) put Caitlin, me and the latest mini-Hatchet at risk, due to procrastination.

You should admire my restraint. I didn't say, "We could have DIED." Instead I went with the simpler, "We could have been seriously injured." Eric, standing at the bottom of the stairs and observing my Righteous Wife face determined that accepting my words as The Truth was the best idea at the moment. We then mounted up, moseyed out and got those tires changed.

Psychotic Pregnant Hatchet Anger never even had to be unleashed.

Now that's the sign of a good marriage!