Thursday we had a spate of snow at school get-out time.
It started as tiny ice pellets around 1:30. Tiny. Not even worthy of the name flurries. Tiny things smaller than cupcake sprinkles, and less colorful, that bounced off the black metal window trim. Right at 3:00, fat flakes were flying sideways in the icy gales. I had planned to meet up with my mom and treat her to a ride while I paid my house bill. I did not want her out in those condition. I did not think anything would stick, but Mom gets anxious if she's out and about in inclement weather.
I called Mom and told her to stay put, that I would swing by her house and pick her up. She was happy as a clam to accompany me and hear some homefront and workplace gossip. On our return trip, we stopped at Save A Lot. Me to get oranges, because I've been having one a day and have KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK on wood, kept a cold away. Mom wanted to pick up a dozen eggs.
The snow was still flying. I opened T-Hoe's door and stepped a foot down onto his nubby running board. WHEE! That thing was coated with ice. Nancy Kerrigan could have skated there until I flung open the door and made her scream, "WHYYYYYYY?" I cautioned Mom not to step on the running board. We both slid out without sliding.
A cart full of oranges, eggs, chips, brownies, and ketchup later, we returned to the scene of the climb. We had to figure out how to mount T-Hoe without touching the running board. No broken hips were happening on MY watch. Mom said she could hoist herself up by stepping over the running board and onto the floor proper. I pointed out the grab-handle. She hoisted. Paused mid-hoist, not on purpose, and I attempted to give her a leg up like a jockey's helper. Only I didn't grab her leg. I hope she did not feel violated. She DID start to laugh, which was not a good thing, so I hastily pushed and watched her teeter onto the seat.
Then it was my turn. I knew I couldn't do the hoist thing. The driver's side has no grab-handle. I didn't want to pull the steering wheel out of its socket. That running board was slick as snot. America's Funniest Videos would have loved some footage of my early attempts. Mom suggested that I throw some tissues down on the running board. She's not really very good at the physics side of things. I searched for my big long blue-and-black windshield scraper. Aha! The Pony had buried it under three umbrellas in the back.
I stood beside T-Hoe, scraping his running board with a three-foot ice scraper. It made an extraordinarily loud noise. Many people sitting in their cars, people-watching, watched me. I managed to remove ice down to the nubs on a section about ten inches long. Just enough. I tested it. I stepped up and in.
I'm as good as a chimp with a long blade of grass at an ant hill.