My New Year's Eve day wasn't so impressive. In fact, it sucked. This may have had something to do with the fact that the road I lived on was a FUCKING ICE RINK.
I backed out of my driveway to go to lunch with my family. I was all excited to eat good food then get on the road for Marquette. I back out, shift into gear....aaaand nothing. Except the smell of burning rubber as my front tires spun and spun andspunandspun. No movement. No forward movement at least. The car went backwards since it's on a fucking hill. But no forward movement. I was stuck.
I was stuck. And I was late for lunch. And I was irate.
Visions of missing New Years Eve celebrations with friends danced through my head. This was rather upsetting to me.
I promptly marched into my house and called Katy on her celly. She was no help. I let her know that by screaming in her ear. Later on, she let me know that all the fine banktellers at Wells Fargo heard my rant as well.
I then called the Houghton County Road Commission and let them know what I think. Through a message, of course, because it was New Years Fuckin' Eve and they were on holiday...
"Hi, I realize that nobody is there because it's a holiday and you all probably have plans. Guess WHAT, bastards? Some of us that live on backroads would like to do implement plans as well but we can't BECAUSE THE ROADS ARE A SHEET OF FUCKING ICE. I can only hope that you're all out on the roads, working your asses off because SOME of us have lives and SOME of us have plans and we pay taxes, fuckers and we'd like to actually see some results from you lazy fucks. GET MOVING!!! GRRRR!"
Yes, I ended the message by growling in the phone.
A neighbor picked me up so I could meet my family for lunch. While eating, we bitched about the roads and said we'd left messages. Thankfully, theirs were more coherent and, um, nice. More thankfully, in my frenzy I forgot to say what road I lived on so that the road commission people couldn't destroy our cars or driveway or anything.
When the fam got home, we found that the sander/scraper/de-icing people hadn't touched our road. It looked more like an ice rink than a road.
How I didn't injure myself walking to my car (which I'd abandoned on the side of the road) was a miracle.
Being the bound and determined girl that I am, I called a tow truck to get my car to the highways (which, fyi, were clear and heavenly). The truck I called slid past my car. The driver determined that if they hooked the car to the truck, it'd be a slidey mess. Somehow, though, he got into my car and made. it. drive. How, i don't know. But it looked effortless.
I would've been pissed if I wasn't so thrilled to get off the ice rink. I rode in the tow truck with the other tow guy and just marveled at the fact that Rexy was moving the whole time. What the hell? How is it moving? IT'S MOVING!!! Oh GOD YAY! Woooow.
The best part? I wasn't charged for towing! Wooo! Perhaps it pays to be a cute girl in crisis. Hell, I deserved it after dealing with the ice rink road. Gaah.
The moral of the story? If you live in the Keweenaw don't count on having good roads. Ever. And! Good people do exist--thanks, tow truck guys! Without your help I wouldn't have made it to Marquette and a fabulous night wouldn't have been possible.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~