Songdog.net

It was in the early hours of the present storm, one set to dump between twelve to eighteen inches of snow on us here in northern New Jersey. The roads had not been plowed, sanded, or salted, and the packed layer of new snow had made things quite slippery. I was driving home on the Garden State Parkway when I was passed by a black Ford Expedition (two and one half tons) cruising by me in the right lane. The driver had rolled down his window to stick out his arm and as he drove along he was dilligently working over his windshield with an ice scraper.

It felt good to get home.