No two are alike:
I drive home from college or from work. Night has usually fallen. My cheeks still sting from the icy particles blowing through the frigid air. Some nights it is clear and the stars are glittering above. Other nights, such as this one, are cloudy and dreary. Without street lamps lighting the road, I flick on the bright headlights. In the high beam swirls a vortex of snowflakes. The Doctor Who theme starts to play in my head as I drive up the curvy hill. Gusts of wind tug ripples of loose snow across the road and the tires plow through them.
I’ve driven this way before and each time it is a little different.
The moon could be as bright as a spotlight guiding my way home, or the horizon of the cloudy night sky is orange tinged for some reason. Gripping the steering wheel, I have to put my trust in the breaking system of a machine that wants to hurl itself down a winding road at sixty miles an hour. The threatening ice lays in wait an inch outside the lines. I notice the dead deer on the side of the road, frozen stiff, has been removed. Turning onto my street, the cars tires slide down the unattended snow and ice covered road. I fishtail into the driveway.
Before turning off the engine, I take a moment to recover. Driving in these kinds of conditions is new to me, but I think I’m doing all right so far; haven’t succumbed to frostbite yet.