Oy. I feel like Gilligan or something.
It should have been, at most, a 5 hour roadtrip round trip.
So said the yahoo maps. So said past experience.
Boy am I a sucker.
In the quest for Xmas snow in California for my Xmas dinner party this evening, I drove out to Truckee to pick some up.
What I was not anticipating was the following:
a) heavy holiday traffic
b) torrential rainstorms getting *to* sacramento-ish
c) nil visability once heading north from sacromento-ish
d) log jams in terms of the chain stations to put on your wheels
e) a full 1.5 hour stop in the midst of heading up the summit
f) spinning out and hitting a snow drift (no damage, and I’m fine, thanks)
g) having a chain break (mudda fucka)
h) waiting 1.5 hours for the aaa guy to come tow me
i) him crawling under his towtruck to repair the hydraulics to lift my car. With duct tape.
j) another hour waiting to see if my insurance policy would cover the towing
k) nil visibility on the return trip.
l) going about 2.5 mph for … ever.
m) having one of the new chains break on my trip down the summit back towards sacramento
n) my exhausted inability to remove the remaining chain effectively in the drizzel for another 30 minutes (I decided to drive off without collecting it. once I’d unlatched the sucker)
o) how really really really really really really far it really is to go pick up snow for xmas. Next year, it’s the snoopy snow cone machine for snow. Werd.
On the upside:
3 angel moments:
1) No damage to my car when I spun out. Safe. For once. This has been a v. bad year for me and driving.
2) Extraordinarily nice caltrans guy who helped get me out of the drift, off the road, and called AAA for me. Plus he helped me load up my car with snow.
3) Getting my towing fee waived completely and the new chains installed by super nice tow truck guy who a) owns his own aquarian biz, b) is saving up for a home and working xmas day towing people c) has his own public access show.
I’m tired. It’s been 12 hours since I left home to pick up snow.
But I’m happy. And satisfied. No snow angel pix this year sadly. I forgot amidst the whole adventure.
Sorry to Mr. Sparkly Loving and Beau in Sacto that I was too tuckered out to drop off snowballs. You know I still love you scrubba scrubba loads.
The mad cooking for having folks over for dinner tonight … oh shit, in 11 hours… starts in about 4 hours. I gotta get some shuteye.
This moment of ridiculous holiday cheer brought to you by the letter T.
There’s an Orwellian reference there.
Also: The time alone in the car, listening to 80s soundtracks, Flaming Lips, Floetry, Rain Mixes from years past, and other good tunes was good for me. Got to sort out some mucky stuff in my head. Working on starting off 2004 nekkid. Oh, I’ll write about that whole quirkicism later this week. Let me sleep first, pumpkin pie.
BTW. An Aside, two people from work, whenever I talk to them, always refer to me as some sort of breakfast pastry. I find this ridiculous. One is a raging queen. The other another saucy aussie. To them, I’m biscuit. I’m pancake. I’m muffin. I’m croissant. I’m banana nut bread. I’m bun bun. I’m cranberry scone with creme fraiche. Seriouslly.
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