You gotta love snow days. Sitting inside. Sipping coffee. Watching it come down.
Tonight is a snow night. Nothing is better than snow nights. Suddenly, the darkness is illuminated and a storybook-looking winter wonderland appears.
There’s something about this. Being inside where it’s warm and comfortable while being able to observe, just on the other side of your window, a harsh, brutal, frigid environment.
I’ve been in plenty of snow days/nights that have sucked. They aren’t so pleasant when you’re having to get to work on time but have slid off the road into a snow bank and are shoveling yourself out with your pitching wedge because you’ve left your shovel at home (good thing that golf bag was still in there).
Or the time, driving to my grandpa’s funeral in Bakersfield from Reno with my dad who decides it’s cool to cruise at an angry 55mph, cutting off traffic that’s going a sensible 20mph in blizzard conditions. It was when we hit Mammoth, CA that we crossed that one bridge, hit a slick patch and spun around twice — I know because I was counting through closed eyes — consuming all lanes just waiting for the metal-on-metal impact. Time seemed to slow down and my knuckles whitened as they grasped the ‘oh-shit handle’ above the passenger window before we smacked a guard rail and blew our tire. Could have been worse.
As the sun started to set, we were jacking up the car and throwing on the donut spare that had to get us almost 300 more miles in the ice and snow when it was only supposed to be driven about 70 on dry road.
Yep. Sure feels nice. Right here. Inside. Where it’s warm.