COLUMN: Here Goes Everything

By Tobin Barnes
Living on a plateau on top of a pretty darned big hill has its advantages, view not the least of them.

It also has its down sides, like driving down the hill after a long period of snowy cold weather. And the snow has been packed down hard during weeks of sub-zero temperatures.

And there’s a quick warmup all of a sudden, making the road kinda slushy.

And then there’s a just-as-quick hard freeze the night after.

And no one thought to sand the road.

And now you’ve got a toboggan run that Olympic racers would think of as mighty fine.

And I’m driving down this thing in the morning on my way to school. To be sure, it becomes the mother of all white-knucklers.

Then coming around a bend about halfway down, I suddenly see things are going to get even more complicated. A car is sitting horizontally across the middle of the road and two kids are standing near it on the shoulder.

There’s nowhere to go. The hill rises on one side of the road and drops somewhat precipitously on the other. I pull up about fifty yards away with my pickup pointed down a 10-15 percent grade.

The kids run up to me and I roll down the window.

“Grandma is afraid to move the car. She called Grandpa to help.”

“When’s he coming?” I wonder, not in the least wistfully.

“He should be here right away. She called a while ago.” And soon, by golly, there he is, gingerly making his way on foot up the icy road after leaving his vehicle at the bottom.
He gets into the car, tries to turn it around, but it’s too slick, so he starts inching it down the grade backwards. It’s a touchy procedure for Grandpa (or for Mario Andretti, for that matter), taking about ten minutes to execute. In the meantime, two other residents of our subdivision have approached and, like me, are waiting to descend.

The waiting doesn’t help. It only makes me more aware that the road ahead—where it is most precipitous—seems, to my mind anyway, to angle off to the side where the drop-off is.

I steadily become more and more aware that this is a definite problem on sheer ice. If not careful, the pickup will not only start sliding down the road, but also across the road and over the drop-off. Sure, I’ve got my seatbelt on, but skidding off the road and cartwheeling down the hill is not at all appealing.

At the very least, I’d get pretty darned beat up bouncing around inside the cab there, not to mention totaling the pickup. Not a great start to the day.

The smart thing might be to leave the vehicle where it is, walk back home, and call in sick (not a stretch). Maybe drive the pickup down this spring when the ice is just a distant memory.

But that’d be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? I’m not sure, but perhaps. Especially when other people are waiting for me to get going.

Anyway, I nerve up for the ordeal and start feeling my way down the road. Once I get going, I gather more confidence that I can handle the challenge. And so far so good. The tension lessens. Eventually, it’s to the level of trying to make a three-and-a-half foot putt with a quarter bet on the line. Once in a while, you can do it.

And such was the case this time. At the bottom, I feel the thrill of victory, like landing a winning ski jump.

Not only that, but I am totally alert for the school day. No morning grogginess for me.