Frosted

Would this be the day the weatherman’s prediction came true?  With no windows in our office, most of us ladies hoped the promise of a heavy snowfall was just another veiled threat to which we’ve become accustomed. A few break-time peeks only built up our confidence that we can handle any northeastern Ohio winter. But now at quitting time, our parking lot resembled a lumpy cake to which a thick, fluffy white frosting was applied. We got “dumped on.” 

Those of us who had automobile remotes pushed the button to wake up our ride home.  We honked horns or flashed headlights to lead us to our vehicle that had called for its rescue. That same remote strengthened my confidence in getting into my ride. A faint response told me my sleeping beauty was awakened, but not yet able to function. My otherwise dependable car now offered two front doors that were frozen shut! I was in Panic Mode! The biting wind drained my logic until I tried the second button to unlock the back doors of my pathetic, Popsicle car. It worked!  I crammed myself inside hoping to thaw out before scraping layers of crusted snow off my questionable transportation. But, wait. This idea made more sense if I could coax my frozen body over the front seats, start the car, turn on the heater full blast and thaw my lifeless limbs.    

My shifting console, between the two front seats, was now my only access to the driver’s area. I could have hurried things along by stretching over the front seats to start the engine. But that might result in bumping the controls while I climbed over the console and drive blindly around the parking lot like a marble in a pinball game. Ultimately, I didn’t give much thought to how I would end up when I shook snow from my boot, threw my right leg over the opening, lowered my body over the seat and faced backwards.  Having squeezed my bunched up coat with me I saw my left leg hooked onto the back of the passenger seat.  I pulled, twisted and sat on the horn. 

This announcement could have alerted the other ladies who were cleaning their ride home. I imagined someone would answer the call, have a camera and take my ransom photo for the office Christmas Party. Fortunately, I was spared humiliation. And rescue. My right leg was going numb underneath my cold and damp body. I tried to wiggle my left foot but it didn’t respond. Could this be the early stages of hypothermia? A thought occurred to me! Pull my foot from the clumsy boot while I lift my behind from this pretzel position.I grabbed the upright seat, raised myself about two inches and came down with a thud. And blew the horn. Again! 

 I was determined this vehicle wouldn’t hold me hostage. Breathing deeply, I regained courage and planned my escape. This would be no contest for a younger body. But a stubborn senior can summon hidden resources when her back is facing the front.  Here goes! With positive gusto I pulled my bootless leg through the opening, pushed my torso backwards, swung myself around and, again, leaned my elbow on the horn! I was free to cross my fingers and start the motor. In minutes the heat thawed the doors, encouraging the nonchalant snow removal of my dormant car. The half-empty parking lot fed my determination to pat myself on the back and wear the smile of a victorious athlete who finished the race. After all, I conquered a horrendous lack in judgment, braved nature’s latest wrath, and played three toots on a horn as my timid, yet deserving, fanfare 

Lizabeth Braskie

I'm a retired Sun Newspaper typist. I've been writing freelance articles for the past twenty five years. Some of them are personal experiences having to do with my family of eight children and a total of twenty grandchildren. They keep me busy with a variety of subject matter.

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Volume 9, Issue 1, Posted 9:23 AM, 02.01.2017