Winter Driving Conditions

I had one eye on the weather forecast last week; I am no stranger to bad weather road trips, but I like to know what I’m getting into. There are three mountain passes between here and Seattle. I’ve driven over each of them in a snowstorm at least once (and once over Snoqualmie in a snowstorm in the dark). Thankfully, the drive over on Tuesday was through mostly bare and dry conditions. I didn’t actually hit any snow until Spokane, and then it was just light flurries. While watching the news that night, though, I found out that there had been a 60-70 car pileup on I-90 just west of Spokane earlier in the day. A snow squall had come through around 2:30 p.m. bringing whiteout conditions. That stretch of highway is congested anyway because the speed limit drops from 70 mph to 60 mph there. The resulting pileup closed the highway in both directions for several hours. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries (besides to the cars).

I’ve got some opinions on winter driving. In 38 years of driving in general, I’ve never been in an accident of my making. I was rear-ended twice in the Jetta, both times because someone else wasn’t paying attention. I am a good, defensive driver. I watch the road conditions, and when it’s bad, I slow down. We have a saying in the fire department that “slower is faster.” I’d much rather arrive an hour late than not at all.

Contrary to popular opinion, driving at highway speeds on icy roads is not the mark of a skilled driver. It’s the mark of an idiot—and hopefully an idiot that doesn’t cause an accident. On my way out of Seattle and up toward Snoqualmie Pass, the wind picked up and it started to snow. I positioned myself in the far right-hand lane going 60 mph (the speed limit there is 70 mph) so that I could ditch onto the shoulder if someone in front of me lost control. A reader board over the road flashed the temperature—32 degrees—with a warning for ice and snow up ahead. I watched as car after truck after SUV, all with Washington plates, passed me in the left lanes doing 70-80 miles an hour. I doubt many of those vehicles had snow tires, let alone studded ones.

I made it over the pass without incident and stopped in Moses Lake for lunch. When I got to Spokane, though, I found out that I-90 east of Moses Lake—the spot I had driven through just an hour or two earlier—was closed because of another big pileup. (No doubt another batch of overconfident Washington state drivers.) And I-90 near Ritzville was closed again yesterday morning due to a collision between three semis.

I’m not worried about my own abilities. I worry about the stupid people I have to share the road with.

Meanwhile, back at home, the husband was dealing with a wicked windstorm. I’ve got an app on my phone that notifies me when our fire department gets paged out on a call. It works anywhere I have cell service (including in foreign countries, which is a bit disconcerting). As I headed out of Spokane Wednesday morning on my way to Seattle, that app alarm kept going off. When I checked in with the husband at lunch, I discovered that we had another half a dozen trees down in the woods and the power was out. He said that the wooded area about two miles south of us looked like someone had taken a machete to it.

[I also got a text from him at one point saying Your woodpecker tree is history, by the way. The “woodpecker tree” was the skeleton of a long-dead pine that has stood on our property since we bought it. It was the tallest dead tree out there and a favorite perch of the pileated woodpecker; hence, the name. Several men have tried to cut down that tree over the years, but I steadfastly refused to allow them. It came down in the windstorm.]

I don’t want to get into a debate on climate change; that topic is too politicized and emotionally charged to have a reasonable discussion. I will say, though, that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to note that weather patterns have shifted in the 26 years we have lived here. It used to be that we had maybe one or two of those bad windstorms a year. We’ve had three since August. And more of this:

I felt bad that I wasn’t here to help him out. I hate wind, though. This storm was so strong that it broke one of my wind chimes. The fishing line holding the pipes together snapped and I am going to have to re-string it.

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The new shop has electricity!

The electrician was here yesterday installing large overhead lights in the lean-tos and inside the shop itself. Now the husband can see to unload the trucks and trailers.

And I picked up my new bifocals yesterday. They will take some getting used to, but I already appreciate not having to take off and put on my glasses like I used to. Distance is great. Middle vision is a bit tricky; I am having trouble seeing my computer screen with them on. The optician said to give them a solid two weeks, though, before giving up, so we’ll see what happens. They will adjust the prescription if I am still having trouble.