SNOW AND HILLS, PART ONE
2/14/00. 2:38am RST. Home.

The Austin open-mikes were big fun, and they rejuvenated my weary music urges. As I re-entered Oklahoma heading north, I started to see cars covered with snow, heading the other direction, and I thought I might be in for some trouble.

Somewhere around Wynnewood, the skies were still blue, although there was now a dusting of snow. I passed a semi facing the wrong direction, looking like a fender-bender, and a guy in an SUV waving us all to slow down. Hey man, I'm from Ohio, I can drive in winter weather.

I didn't see the black ice.

A few bridges later, I did.

The rear end goes left, I see the guard rail to the right, and I do not picture a happy ending; I know I'm going to hit it, but I don't know how hard, or when. Then the tires grab hold on the unfrozen pavement at the end of the bridge where I'm now pointing right, so I go that way, scraping the end of the guardrail then headfirst down the embankment, and I'm conscious enough not to brake and even enough to take it out of gear and coast down the hill, and I figure if I don't hit too hard and flip the thing over I might get out of this in one piece. When I hit the flat drainage area I picture waiting in the middle of it for a tow, then realize that small hill up ahead is the on-ramp and maybe I have enough momentum to get there, so I get it back into gear and even give it a little gas as I cross the little tundra. As I level out and turn left onto the ramp it occurs to me to look to my right and make sure I'm not about to hit anyone, which I'm not, and I park along the side, put on the flashers and shut it off.

I exhale and blink. I get out and look at the front right fender. It's not bad. My knees...

When I did Speech my senior year of high school, I never got the usual nervous ticks beforehand. I would yawn a lot for some reason, that's always been my reaction to being nervous. Then after I would finish, when I should be calm, then I would get the butterfly stomach and my knees would start shaking.

Standing on that on-ramp, that's exactly what happens to me again.

I memorize the image of my tracks down the hill, wishing I had film in my camera, and eventually I head back out on the road.

I have NO IDEA what I'm up against.

[here is part two]