Be Careful

"There's no life like the snow life." 
                   - While I Shovel the Snow, Walkmen
                                                                                                                                                                       
I have often heard that people do not mature with the years, rather the damage. 
I think this morning has aged me a bit more than expected. 
So many people, so many different voices telling me to be careful, drive slow, don't even get on the roads. Normally I take it with a busy mind and stumble a little. 
This snowstorm wasn't supposed to hit until tonight. 
Plenty of time for classes and getting what I need before I compete at state this weekend. So of course to spite me, we get the snow early. That doesn't change the fact that I still have to travel and pack as planned. 
"Don't go that far," the cashier said. 
"I have to," I tell her. 
"I hear you might be okay on State Road 1," says the customer in front of me. "We're headed that way ourselves."
"But still be careful," says the cashier. 
Then my coworkers, one, two, three, four, all of them. "Be careful." 
Then my aunt on the way out of the gas station. "Go straight home. They're sending people home from school." 
"I still have other classes and things to get done," I tell her. 
"Be careful." 
And for once, because it really is bad outside, I heed their words with a clear head. 
I go slow. Thank goodness for those new front tires. I actually have some tread now. No distractions to pull my eyes away from the road. Music on to keep things calm. 
Then just a little nudge. 
The back tires? I'll just be careful to straighten them out. 
Swing right. No, no, you're supposed to straighten out. Why aren't you straightening out? We're not going that fast. 
Swing left. Oh. We're perpendicular to the road now. I'm not sure I can save this one. 
Backwards. And now we're off the road. Is that a pole? 
Yep. That's a pole. 
I blink, and I'm staring out the windshield, just blinking. Adele is still playing, the car is still running, I'm still warm and surprised. No, wait, it's a little chilly now. 
The back window is shattered in. Great. I should probably get out and check that. 
Oh, of course. The door won't open. It's barricaded with wires. From an electrical pole. That I just hit. Wonderful. There go my rates. 
So instead, I climb out the passenger door, and thus begin the two hour journey of passersby and police and parents and coworkers and big trucks hauling my fractured baby out of the ditch. No one is quite convinced how I'm still walking around fine. 
"No concussion? Or whiplash? Didn't you hit your head? The seat belt got you, right?"
"No. I'm just fine. Well, you know, maybe a little shaky." 
So much for those new front tires. 

~E