#14 -- Have to dig myself out

This is a story about fate or karma or whatever you want to call it. It's that overlying power that seems to resonate throughout the world and will quite frequently turn to bite you in the butt. In this respect more than any other, it reminds me, not so fondly, of my toilet seat.

So, first let me say that I'm an Arizona boy, through and through. I've been living in Utah now for more than a decade, and still I feel like if it's going to snow that it'd be better if the stuff just fell on the grass and roofs, and stayed off of things like streets, and parking lots, and most definitely the sidewalks. As such, I don't think that I've fully gained the proper respect for what a good snowstorm's capacity for annoyance could be. That is, I didn't have one until tonight.

For some reason when I got in my minivan, preparing to make a quick run to the public library and to our favorite super-mega store, I thought how funny a blog entry named "Have to dig myself out" might be. But I didn't have to worry. I mean, I don't live in Wisconsin or Montana or anything like that. We just don't get that much snow here.

Enter karma. Insert butt. Copious pain to follow.

You know, I don't think I have much of a proper respect for the power of karma either.

Anyhow, yesterday it snowed a bundle. Something like a foot. For me, a desert-raised city boy now living in Utah, that was quite a bit, but nothing that might cause annoyance. So when, a second storm decided to ride in on the tail-wind of the first and dump another foot or so on us, I didn't think much of it either. Even when I started noticing piles of snow that were taller than me, found my leg sinking to the knee as I tromped across what should have been the lawn, and noticed that the level of the snow around my car came clear up to the bumper, it still didn't much phase me so much.

Eh, no big deal, I thought, as I climbed into said minivan and shifted into reverse. I'll just drive right out and make it to the library before it closes. Boy that blog entry sure would have been a good one.

Over the next ten minutes or so I proceeded to get myself royally stuck. The tires spun, the car rocked, we made it eighteen inches back, and then came forward once more. I was sure that if I just turned the wheel the right way, that I'd be able to climb right out of the depression I'd made in the snow. Out of the car I came, repeatedly, in an attempt to clear the way with my car-window scraper, slapping at the piled snow like a kid pulling a toothpick through a sponge cake. Back in, rock the car, spin the tires. Into the snow to dig some more, chunk up the ice I was making through friction.

Before too long, I had worked up a good sweat. In fact, it had started dripping down my face and neck and really got quite annoying. Why was I so blasted hot? I wondered. Looking around, I noticed for the first time that the heat inside the car was blowing full-bore into my face, and was quite warm due to all the engine revving that I had been doing. Not so hot then, just the snow melting from within my bird's nest of hair. That problem was solved easily. With the heat off, I realized that the radio too was blaring. How had I missed that? Radio off, and suddenly I could really hear the engine whine. Bonus. I'd be out in two seconds now.

Back to work I went. Rock, rock. Forward, back, repeat. After a few attempts, I noticed that my tires were now up over the curb and I was tearing the grass out from underneath the nice pack of snow we had. Oops. It was only a few more minutes before I had really gotten myself stuck good. So good in fact, that I couldn't move the car at all.

And the snow just kept on coming. Ah, the lovely snow.

It took me another ten minutes to get myself unstuck (with much luck), and the car back to it's original position. Well, almost it's original position. As it ended up, I had shifted it in the passenger's direction about a foot, up onto the grass. Well, I decided that I had to do something, or the manager of the complex would string me up by my toes the next day for ruining his grass.

Enter shovel.

Another ten minutes of back-breaking labor, and the way was clear. Then I got my wife out to steer as I pushed on the front bumper, and to my great wonder and amazement the car was free to leave. And it had only taken me forty-five minutes to do it. My but what fun this stuff can be.

Never let it be said that I don't learn from a lesson so forcefully stuffed into my face. I immeditely added "Ice Melt" to my list of groceries, and said good-bye to my wife for the second time that trip.

Well, there was no Ice Melt at the store. Yeah. Guess everyone got there before I did. Wonderful. So, I decided that good old non-iodized salt would take care of the problem just as well, and bought two cans of it. It's all the same right? Actually, I have no idea what Ice Melt salt actually is, so don't quote me on that. It went on pretty easy though. We'll see how it worked tomorrow morning.

As I was finally coming back into the house from this wonderful adventure, a recent conversation I had with a friend of mine came to mind. He said that his father (a very wise man) had a very good reason for living in Arizona: you don't have to shovel sunshine.

And after this experience, I only have one thing to say: A-men.