The snowball fight…with my car.

Despite the fact that I’ve lived in Montana for 20 of my 24 years of life, I am famously terrible at paying any attention to the weather before making my clothing decisions.

As I walked to my car in my polka-dotted ballet flats, blue fleece draped over my arm, I again chastized myself for not so much as peering out the blinds before I got dressed. I opened the door to a winter wonderland, with approximately 8 inches of new snow covering every surface.

Standing in the ankle deep snow, I fleetingly thought of returning to my apartment, adding boots and a parka to my ensemble, and then attemping to de-snow and de-ice my Corolla.

Realizing that my brown snow boots would clash with my largely black outfit, and that I’d be even more late leaving my apartment, I not-so-wisely decided to proceed to my vehicle and just deal with the cold.

Besides, my ballet flats were already soaked.

First, of course, I had to determine which snowball in the parking area belonged to me. Luckily, the purple racing stripes adorning the sides of my car made it stand out a bit, and I was able to scrape enough snow off the door handle to get the car open. I placed my black diaper-bag sized purse on the seat, set my fleece on top of it, and started the car.

Living in Montana has taught me the importance of warming up one’s car before driving it. I do not enjoy waiting for my car to heat up, but I recognize that doing so somehow benefits the engine, or the tires, or global warming, one of those “karmically good for the universe” things. So, I do my best to heat up my car when it’s cold, or snowy, or if I can’t see out the windows. Given the fact that it was going to take me at least 10 minutes to clear the snow off the top and scrape enough of the car to be able to see the rest of the world, I was sure that the car would be all nice and toasty warm by the time I finished.

So, I standing with my flimsy shoes in the deep snow, clad in only a three-quarter length corporate logo-ed tee and dress pants, I leaned my upper body into my car, and turned the key in the ignition.

In retrospect, I understand what happened…as I drove home last night, the snow was just starting to come down. Predictably, I turned on my windsheild wipers. I was chatting with my mother on my cell phone as I pulled into the parking lot, turned off the car, and locked the doors.

With the majority of my body outside in the snow, however, I did not find it particularly amusing as the windsheild wipers squeaked to life the moment the engine turned over, flinging all eight inches of new snow onto my hair, neck, and back. As the stinging snow hit my lower back and melted, dripping down my back and legs, I realized that my shirt had ridden up as I reached into the car. Perfect.

Corolla 1, Flemmily 0

Shocked by cold and stupidity, I stood up straight with my jaw dropped, squealing and brushing the snow off my body. I remained still long enough for the windsheild wipers to restart their cycle, and toss any of the snow they missed the first time. This time the snow flew directly into my face.

Did I mention that my mouth was open?

Corolla 2, Flemmily 0

I came to my senses quickly enough to back away from the vehicle, spitting out snow and blinking the flakes out of my eyelashes. Though briefly tempted to return to the warmth of my apartment and simply call the day a wash, I decided to act like an adult, retreive my ice scraper and brush from the backseat, and clear the snow off of my car. My inner toddler came out for a moment, however, when I decided to kick the tire in a mini-tantrum. It backfired, as my toes had grown quite cold and wet in the ballet flats. I hopped on one foot for a moment, frozen, stubbed toe in my hand.

Corolla-3.

Cursing quietly and limping a bit, I wiped the snow of the sides and rear of my car, giving the windsheild wiper-wielding front of the car a wide berth.

Brandishing my ice scraper, I cautiously approached the front of the car from the passenger side. Finally catching a break, the majority of the snow slid off the car of it’s own accord, aided by the sunshine heating the hood.

Hah! Corolla-3, Changing climate-1.

Feeling slightly vindicated, I walked to the other side of the car, moved my purse and coat to the passenger seat, and sat down in the driver’s seat, confident that the heat would thaw me quickly, and by the time I arrived at the office I would again be warm and cheerful.

This was not to be. Cold, wet, icy-toed, and defeated, I realized that the heater was turned to Air Conditioning.

Corolla-4, Flemmily 0. Corolla wins game, set, and match.

Advertisements

1 Comment

  1. N said,

    April 9, 2008 at 10:09 am

    oh m, I literally laughed out loud in the middle of a coffee shop. I’m sorry, I know that insensitive, but your battle with the weather is SO something that would happen to the both of us. The snow may have won the battle, but there is still the war…I stay stick with the ballet flats- dressing practically is definitely overrated 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: