Winter Blues
This is a “rant piece” I wrote on October 22, 2007 for my senior year Writing & Publishing class.
Winter Blues
I’ve only been alive for 76 season changes. Somehow, though, it feels like it’s been longer. Less than one hundred, more than fifty; those often feel like the only numbers that exist.
I always liked winter when I was a child, but last year was the first year I felt its wrath. I used to be shocked when a teacher, parent, or family member told me they hated winter.
“How could you hate winter? There’s snow, and cookies, and Santa Clause, and fun things!” I would say in such naïve, child-like fashion. “I hate snow. Driving in the snow isn’t any fun, and you’ll learn that someday.” Well, I certainly learned it. Thankfully, I don’t have a terrible icy road at one in the morning car accident story to help my point. But I did learn to hate everything about winter.
It took me a few months of harsh cold to realize why I hated it so much – even before the snow hit. I realized that for my entire life, I had been spoiled rotten. There was always a warm car or bus waiting for me to take me from point A to point B, wherever I went. I never had to take the time to head outside with a wet head from the morning shower to start my car, because though my car may have been manufactured after the wonderful invention of automatic windows, mirrors, door locks, and auto starters doesn’t mean it came with any of those things. I never really had to get into a warm car only to find that the seat and the steering wheel are both still ice cold. And I certainly never had to wait ten minutes for my car to defrost, finally giving up and driving to school or work with an eyehole in the ice of my windshield because I ran out of windshield fluid the day before, bracing myself for a collision as I pulled onto a street, unable to see out of the rear passenger side window.
I can’t even begin to describe the irritation of driving through my first licensed winter with horrible tires because I couldn’t afford new ones. I slid through countless stops signs, red lights, and down hills. Each time I arrived at my destination, I sat in my car for a brief moment, wondering how I could have possibly made it there alive.
Hopefully, these incidents only occur due to my lack of experience. I try to tell myself that, but I am usually discouraged when I remember the adults I encountered in my childhood, some driving for probably forty years or more.
Now, I find myself shocked to encounter anyone who doesn’t hate winter.
“You must drive a sweet SUV,” I say.
To get back to my blog, simply click on the pink title at the top of this page, or click here to get back to my other writings.