Just like most teens, I was ecstatic when I finally turned 16. I was excited to be older and to be seen as more responsible. But mostly, I was excited to drive.
The day I got my license, I convinced my mom to let me drive around town, so I could enjoy my newfound freedom. I spent over an hour going up and down the same streets, feeling like I could take on the world.
While the excitement dimmed over time, I still appreciated the control it gave me over my activities and schedule. I felt like I had driving down pretty well and was prepared for anything.
What I wasn’t prepared for was snow. I spent the months after my spring birthday with clear roads, blue skies and the warmth of the sun whenever I filled my tank. Come January, I didn’t know what to expect from the warnings about ice and dangerous roads.
When we got the heavy snow just over two weeks ago, I didn’t feel worried or uncertain. Looking out my window, the streets looked fine. The plow had been through my neighborhood several times and while they weren’t perfect, the streets looked far from unsafe.
I asked my mom if I could drive to the library, wanting to attend a student-led club meeting so we wouldn’t fall behind. I shouldn’t have been surprised when she didn’t want me to, but I was.
Call me cocky for thinking I could handle the icy, blocked off roads, but I had never driven in the winter before and saw no reason why I shouldn’t be on them.
I argued, telling her that I would be fine and could handle it, pulling out the old excuse, “Well, all of them are doing it, so why can’t I?”
Surprisingly, she relented, telling me to be safe and to text her when I arrived. I agreed and ran out to my car as quickly as I could.
She was right.
Our neighborhood was fine, the plows having pushed most of the snow to the sidewalks. It took a minute to get used to, but by the time I reached the beginning of our subdivision I felt like her worry had been unnecessary.
Then, I turned onto the main street and my skepticism vanished. The roads were still covered with a light layer of snow, meaning I couldn’t see the lines very well. Some of the left turn lanes were blocked off by snow, and because I didn’t know you could turn from the center lane I would drive aimlessly until I could turn around and make a right.
By the time I got to the library, I was met with the surprise that a large number of the parking spaces were covered in snow. I was used to the lot being busy, but not to having nowhere to park when there were fewer than a dozen cars there.
The trek to the library doors was also difficult. I nearly slipped on ice several times and had to walk through a large pile of snow to get to the doors. My feet were freezing for the next few hours.
Driving back was a bit better. I knew where I was going and what to be prepared for, and the lines were more visible from other cars having been on the roads.
The same situation happened a few days later. However, this time, I was out while it was snowing. I won’t say it was all that much worse than the previous time, but it was still a very new experience that took some getting used to.
While I don’t regret daydreaming my way through most of Driver’s Ed, I do wish I had taken the lessons on dangerous conditions more seriously. I was a patch of ice or a pile of snow away from a hospital visit I definitely wouldn’t want to waste on a precious day off school.