Me and the kids, ready to see the Nutcracker
Abominable Snow Ollie
Time for sledding
Snow Angel
Sometimes, when you’re out and about, you see one lone plow pushing snow through the night. Old retired Bob, who packs a thermos of coffee in the dark and patrols the back roads, making sure the rest of us can get to work in the morning. I bet he wears a flannel shirt to stay warm and says things like, “You alright ma’am? Some weather we’re having tonight,” when he helps a stranger out of a ditch. Normally, plowing is a pretty solitary profession.
But every once in awhile, you see the four staggered plows cruisin’ Lake Shore Drive in formation like a bunch of fighter pilots and you’re like, “Oh shit, it’s the Delta Force!” These aren’t your average snowplow men. They mean business; perfect form, plow blades set at the perfect angle so they don’t miss so much as a flake.
::psssssht:: “Red Leader, this is Wing Man Omega. I’ve got a pothole on my niner.”
::psssssht:: “Copy that Omega. Engage evasive maneuvers.”
I can’t help but hear Flight of the Valkyries in my head. I bet they wear sunglasses at night and train for years in a secret federal snowplow training academy. I heard in order to get a spot on the Delta Force, you have to kill the snowplow man you’re going to replace in unarmed combat.
I wish I had a video to show you of these guys. It makes you want to put your hand over your heart.
Because my commute home took THREE HOURS!!
THREE HOURS!!