rudolph the firefighting angel...
Doesn't get more random than that and it doesn't get more stupid than this: my decision to ignore the snow storm warning and close down Target. At 11:00 last night. The snow wasn't supposed to begin until after midnight. My math, I'd be in Hannibal before it began. So I'm an idiot. And my legion of guardian angels still isn't speaking to me.
No snow in St. Louis when I left. A few flurries by Troy. And then no road. Thus begins my panic and my anxiety generated heartburn. I've never been in white out conditions before and never want to repeat the experience. I kicked my sorry self in the butt for ignoring the ice ladened trees I had passed on the way down. The ones I gave pause because it was this stretch of interstate that had been hit worse than our neck of the woods earlier this week. Apparently this area has an attraction for inclement weather conditions because when the snow hit, it hit hard and fast. I really wasn't sure what to do. I attached myself to the bumper of the semi and van ahead of me and tried to stay on the road. I thought, I prayed if I got to Bowling Green I'd find a hotel and wait it out. The semi exited there but the van in front of me..plate # FF62 plowed ahead. I figured I'd stay close and head for Hannibal. The stretch between those two exits happened to be the same stretch I had seen earlier with all the ice. It.was.awful. Awful. I haven't been that scared in a long time. I didn't know whether to pull over or see it through. Then I see the van pull over and out of habit and fear I pull over behind him. He comes toward my van. An older gentleman who informs me he's headed to Quincy and is a retired firefighter with a CB radio. He wanted me to know he'd signal me when the truckers cautioned about cars off the road etc. I thanked him and decided it was my best shot to get home.
Between Bowling Green and Hannibal I prayed over us both. Semi trucks and random cars passed us by and I followed his tracks. He pulled over again and ran back to tell me his wipers were icing and he'd have to keep pulling over to clear them. I thanked him again and thanked God I wasn't out there alone. 1:30. 2:30. My shoulders were killing me I was so tense. Next stop I had to start clearing my own wipers. He checked on me again. I introduced myself and he did the same. 3:30. In Hannibal I was moments away from pulling into the Super 8. I followed him instead over the bridge and headed for Quincy. We pulled over another two or three times and finally around 3-5 miles from the Broadway exit we pull over one last time and he says we should be good from there. I thank him again. He says firefighters help people, that's what they do. He made me feel so attended I half expected him to dissolve into thin air leaving me an angel feather. We pull back onto the interstate and my driver's side wiper breaks. Flopping like a broken wing against the windshield. If I hadn't panicked sufficiently for one long night, I went into hyper-panic. I knew I was lost without him so I flashed my lights hoping he'd pull over again. Which he did. Apologizing he didn't see me sooner. He looked at the wiper and said it was broke. He said if I stayed on his bumper and followed his red tail lights he'd guide my sleigh to town.
It took me a few minutes to realize it, but the snow stopped when my wiper broke. I know. Believe what you want. I still had to deal with the water melting on my window, but I could see. He asked if I could make it home before we turned on to Broadway and after telling him thanks again, assured him I'd be okay.
Since I wasn't sure where he lived, I wasn't sure how far into town I'd have him ahead of me, but we ended up taking Broadway
across town. Praying all the way and confessing my selfish stupidity I call my sister who was praying me home to tell her I was close. Very close. Quincy never looked so good. Then I had to smile. The guy turned north on 18th street. Past the house I grew up in. I followed him all the way to Seminary Road. The man lives two miles from my house. He basically led me home. I stopped and thanked him again for saving my life. He said I was most welcomed.
I pulled into the garage. Took a deep breath. Left the packages where they were and walked in the house a few minutes past 4:30 AM. It's the first time I remember hitting my knees in gratitude to thank God for being home. And for getting me out of my knuckle-headed decision with little consequence other than stiff neck muscles, loss of sleep, ( for me and my sister...) and a broken wiper blade which actually Kevin was able to fix this morning in the shelter of the garage.
I'm an idiot. Seriously.
To all a good night...
No snow in St. Louis when I left. A few flurries by Troy. And then no road. Thus begins my panic and my anxiety generated heartburn. I've never been in white out conditions before and never want to repeat the experience. I kicked my sorry self in the butt for ignoring the ice ladened trees I had passed on the way down. The ones I gave pause because it was this stretch of interstate that had been hit worse than our neck of the woods earlier this week. Apparently this area has an attraction for inclement weather conditions because when the snow hit, it hit hard and fast. I really wasn't sure what to do. I attached myself to the bumper of the semi and van ahead of me and tried to stay on the road. I thought, I prayed if I got to Bowling Green I'd find a hotel and wait it out. The semi exited there but the van in front of me..plate # FF62 plowed ahead. I figured I'd stay close and head for Hannibal. The stretch between those two exits happened to be the same stretch I had seen earlier with all the ice. It.was.awful. Awful. I haven't been that scared in a long time. I didn't know whether to pull over or see it through. Then I see the van pull over and out of habit and fear I pull over behind him. He comes toward my van. An older gentleman who informs me he's headed to Quincy and is a retired firefighter with a CB radio. He wanted me to know he'd signal me when the truckers cautioned about cars off the road etc. I thanked him and decided it was my best shot to get home.
Between Bowling Green and Hannibal I prayed over us both. Semi trucks and random cars passed us by and I followed his tracks. He pulled over again and ran back to tell me his wipers were icing and he'd have to keep pulling over to clear them. I thanked him again and thanked God I wasn't out there alone. 1:30. 2:30. My shoulders were killing me I was so tense. Next stop I had to start clearing my own wipers. He checked on me again. I introduced myself and he did the same. 3:30. In Hannibal I was moments away from pulling into the Super 8. I followed him instead over the bridge and headed for Quincy. We pulled over another two or three times and finally around 3-5 miles from the Broadway exit we pull over one last time and he says we should be good from there. I thank him again. He says firefighters help people, that's what they do. He made me feel so attended I half expected him to dissolve into thin air leaving me an angel feather. We pull back onto the interstate and my driver's side wiper breaks. Flopping like a broken wing against the windshield. If I hadn't panicked sufficiently for one long night, I went into hyper-panic. I knew I was lost without him so I flashed my lights hoping he'd pull over again. Which he did. Apologizing he didn't see me sooner. He looked at the wiper and said it was broke. He said if I stayed on his bumper and followed his red tail lights he'd guide my sleigh to town.
It took me a few minutes to realize it, but the snow stopped when my wiper broke. I know. Believe what you want. I still had to deal with the water melting on my window, but I could see. He asked if I could make it home before we turned on to Broadway and after telling him thanks again, assured him I'd be okay.
Since I wasn't sure where he lived, I wasn't sure how far into town I'd have him ahead of me, but we ended up taking Broadway
across town. Praying all the way and confessing my selfish stupidity I call my sister who was praying me home to tell her I was close. Very close. Quincy never looked so good. Then I had to smile. The guy turned north on 18th street. Past the house I grew up in. I followed him all the way to Seminary Road. The man lives two miles from my house. He basically led me home. I stopped and thanked him again for saving my life. He said I was most welcomed.
I pulled into the garage. Took a deep breath. Left the packages where they were and walked in the house a few minutes past 4:30 AM. It's the first time I remember hitting my knees in gratitude to thank God for being home. And for getting me out of my knuckle-headed decision with little consequence other than stiff neck muscles, loss of sleep, ( for me and my sister...) and a broken wiper blade which actually Kevin was able to fix this morning in the shelter of the garage.
I'm an idiot. Seriously.
To all a good night...
posted by ret at 12:29 PM
3 Comments:
Wow lady. What a story. Thankful for Mr. Rudolph who led you home safely. God is good. Love you.
I was totally starting to tear up reading this--thankful you made it home. I would have tried the same thing if I had been by myself...
So glad you made it home safely. And maybe I'm a little more thankful we don't have snow.
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