This is a short story.
On the way back to my new town on Sunday, I encountered some snow. First there was a little bit of it, and then a bit more, and then it was total pandemonium.
It took me two hours to go 50 miles and I saw 38 cars, trucks and semis in the ditch.
For much of the trip, I was the lead car in our group of cars going east. I was the pace car, basically.
That means that the huge line of cars behind me were at my mercy on the totally snow-packed interstate. At times, I went 20 mph, as did the probably mile-long line of cars behind me.
I did not feel bad, and no one honked or tried to pass me. They couldn’t.
In broad daylight, this situation was not that scary. My dogs slept through it.
I kept telling myself that the most important thing is to keep moving forward. Even at 20 mph, forward is still forward.
And, with me in charge, no one is getting a speeding ticket and our gas mileage is off the charts good. 🤷♀️
I made it home fine, an hour longer than it usually takes me.
My poor dogs looked totally confused when I opened the car door at my place.
The Pugs: “Snow? When did that happen?”
Me: “When I spent two hours driving you through a life-threatening situation when you were snoring, PUGS.”
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