My first winter visit to see the GrandKids. First a scary trip through the poorly plowed streets of Elmira, then a nerve-wracking ride on the River Road between towns, and finally, another scary trip through the streets of Big Flats.
A twelve minute trip took a half-hour, trumped only by the unplowed driveway up to my daughter's home. I threw old Barbie (you may have guessed that she's a Malibu) into low and began the climb. Not 10 feet up and we were spinning our wheels. I rolled back and tried again. Barbie made it up 20 feet. I rolled back and got out to walk.
Nothing plowed, nothing shoveled, nothing swept. I climbed the snow-covered stairs, stopping when I detected a shout.
"Sweetheart!" In the next door neighbor's yard was a plow, it's driver waving to me. My daughter opened her front door, looked at me, then at the truck next door, and burst into tears.
I had arrived just in time to plug the entrance to their driveway. My latest admirer was her father-in-law, arriving unannounced to plow.
The kicker? My daughter wouldn't allow me to go back to move my car! She was appalled I had trudged up the hill. So there I was, preventing the driveway from being plowed, and my daughter nattering at me that I shouldn't have walked up the hill, because of my sprained back. Never mind that the snow and hill have nothing at all to do with my back.
I felt like a fool. And now the drive will not be plowed until Sunday.