When we last left our intrepid hero, he had just stumbled out into a blinding snowstorm. The pale light of the early afternoon sun barely pierced the frigid white torrent. He was more than ready to leave Bergenfield behind even though just little more than an hour ago, he had triumphantly faced the molecular disruptor laser of the skillful Doctor Dello Russo.
Although the snow piled high upon his trusty black Neon did not portend a swift journey home, little did our dashing protagonist know that he would not see the cozy interior of his humble abode until late that evening, despite the fact his destination was a scant fifty-six miles away.
Yup, driving home was a bitch.
Visibility was negligible, none of the roads were plowed, and traffic moved slower than an arthritic three-toed sloth. Further diminishing my ability to see the road, my freshly-lased eyes were extremely photo-sensitive, so removing my newly-issued UV-blocking sunglasses was not an option. One additional wrinkle—for the first two weeks after my surgery, it is necessary to keep my eyes moist with artificial tears; otherwise, a dry, stinging sensation builds to a painful intensity akin to molten glass on my eyeball. Just try applying eye drops while driving…actually, forget I said that; please don’t try it.
The doctor’s office had supplied me with a few packets of “happy pills,” but I would not be able to benefit from their wonderful numbing effects until I reached home.
Due to the relentless barrage of wet snow, clumps of ice clung to my wiper blades, rendering them nearly useless. Visible lanes along the New Jersey Turnpike were nonexistent, so most of the vehicles tried to queue up in one or two lanes (normally that portion of the turnpike is three lanes wide). I said “most” vehicles because occasionally an overconfident SUV driver would try to speed along a third lane of his or her own making.
After more than an hour, traveling a mere ten miles, I finally reached somewhere where I could turn off—the “Vince Lombardi” Service Center. Once parked, I was able to bask in the sweet release of artificial tears flowing over my distressed eyeballs. Pins and needles stung my fingers as blood started to flow back into my hands; my trembling, whitened hands had been tightly grasping the steering wheel the entire time.
I calmed myself for about a half hour before reluctantly resuming my trek. Along the way, I could see that inadequate wiper blades plagued a large percentage of my fellow motorists. It was not really possible to advance more than five miles before caked ice on the wiper blades caused windshields to go from transparent to translucent to opaque. Our only option was to put on our four-way flashers, pull “off” into the rightmost “lane,” exit the vehicle, then bump and pry the ice away from the rubber blades. At least this gave me a periodic opportunity to re-wet my eyes.
It was also necessary to keep a close eye on my rear defroster button. As with most newer cars, the rear defroster has a timed shut-off—not particularly useful during a blizzard. Every so often I would look up, realize that I had let the rear window cool off again, and have to wait twenty minutes for the defroster to melt through an inch or two of accumulated ice and snow.
The exit leaving the turnpike and leading to Route 1 was a bit of a disaster. Deep snow brought quite a few vehicles to a mired standstill, as their owners tried to dig them out with hands and shovels. Those of us with good tires and powerful engines (I love my Neon) had to snake our way around these obstructions, careful to avoid their unpredictable, sometimes lateral movements.
Route 1 was similar to the turnpike; however, one could actually pull off into a parking lot every few miles to clean off the wiper blades. Two lanes merged into a single-file, slow-moving parade of vehicles.
Finally, more than five hours from the time I departed, I arrived in fair Kingston, pulled into the parking lot near my apartment, and breathed a sigh of relief. After a quick phone call to my mother to let her know that I returned home safe and sound, I applied some more eye drops, took my “happy pills,” donned my plastic eye shield, and crawled into my nice warm bed.
I hate winter.
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