That's the eighth car I've seen off the road in 45 minutes of driving.
I'm cruising up the fast lane of interstate 390 North at a bold 40 miles per hour.
The Park Avenue, with it's anti-lock brakes, traction control system, and low-slung air suspension, is proving to be a great winter vehicle. The tires are 50% and I have about 120lbs. of ballast in the trunk.
Most of the weight is my 3-ton floor jack. I should take it out, but I use it so often, changing farm tires. The 5-gallon pail of diesel engine oil is definitely fifth-wheeling though. A cardboard box of tools and brake parts are left from my work on the car Monday morning.
All told, I'm stickin' tight to the road and moving through the snowstorm pretty well.
But in what does my confidence lie? My winter driving skills? Even the best New Yorkers have had some ditch time.
My car? I like it pretty well, but I've owned it for less than 2 weeks and know very little about its quirks. Anything could fail any time in a $650 car.
Better put my trust in my Jesus. He's never failed me yet. And although He doesn't owe me a safe ride home I know he'll be with me the whole way.
Let's not test the angels, though. Slow and steady.
Town of Clarendon. 3/4 of the way home.
Why does it feel like I'm driving over frozen mud....? Oh, no.
It's 9 PM. I'm not home from work yet. I'm in the parking lot of the Clarendon Fire department, kneeling in the snow, straining with all my might on stubborn lug nuts. Finally, with the help of a pry bar to push the ratchet, they come loose, one by one.
The donut tire pops on, the heavy jack is back in the trunk, and the flat tire, its sidewall sliced clean somehow, takes its ease on the leather back seat.
10 PM. Finally in the driveway.
Let's get some supper, sit and relax, and thank the Lord for His goodness.
I think I'll leave that jack in the trunk fro a while.