Chains Advised… No, Seriously
Yeah…. Well, I don’t have any. And if I did, do you really think, here. Travelling alone. By myself. Without anyone else. I would actually pull over on to the side of this white-out, snowy, sleet-y, shitty bumper to bumper mess and try to strap a set of chains on to these. All four. Tires. Of my mini-van?!?! No. I would not.
Drop ‘er into 1st. Hazard lights a blinkin’. Let chips fall where they may.
Winter driving across B.C. Roger’s Pass. Coquihalla. And me.
Almost once a year I decide I must get away… OK. In most cases at around this time of year oh so supportive Filipes is sincerely… strongly… suggesting I get away for a few days. Get some space. Clear my head. Get my creative juices flowing. And, most significantly, come back ready and eager to show him some hard earned love and appreciation.
And so, yes, that’s great. Until the 24 hours before I am about to leave, when the reality of leaving all of my responsibilities- read: my babies!- hits me and I am completely pissed off and resentful that nobody’s coming with me. Or that I have decided to do this. Or that I have been encouraged strongly by someone to do this. All out of sorts. All snuggly, buggly, wuggly while babies are playing x-box. “Mooooooo-ooooom!”
So very early morning arrives. Pack the van. Coffee in hand. Kisses to beautifully peaceful sleeping babes. Quick kiss to offending party. I’m off.
It’s good. Necessary. That’s clear within an hour of being gone.
