Land of the lost

"Nobody on the road,
Nobody on the beach.
I feel it in the air:
Summer's out of reach."

-- The Boys of Summer, Don Henley



It snowed... for two days. It started Tuesday as rain drizzle when I was leaving work. I had no idea that an inch of snow would be on my car when I came out from picking Zoe up from school 20 minutes later. There was no time for plows or salt trucks, and I shushed Zoe for most of the ride home as I gripped the steering wheel and hoped for the best. First gear, is, in fact, the best.

Today it didn't snow. I actually had fun.

Twice today I tried to make it to Zoe's school the hard (steep, snowy) way. I failed twice, but learned some things while trying. Mostly, that it was stupid to try.

Yesterday was the first time I skidded on a real road with businesses and stuff. I was trying to pull into a parking lot, and it just didn't happen. It wasn't dramatic or anything... I just skidded right past the parking lot entrance. So, I parked a few yards beyond and hopped out of my car like... like I meant to do that. Yeah.

Now I know what the grinding moan of uncooperative brakes against ice and snow sounds like.

More embarrassing, I got lost trying to get home yesterday. How many people can say that? I have my regular bridge, but I've tried out another one in case I need to get around something. That something came up yesterday, and so I went. And so I got lost.

Instead of crossing the Ohio River in one straight shot, I ended up in downtown. Now, downtown is sooooo not unfamiliar to me en'at. I mean, I used to, like, cut school all da time and be dahn 'er at dat mickie Ds right der on Stanwix.

But I digress. My point: I have never driven downtown. With all its one-way streets and ramps and loops and bullshit, I just took the bus, and I was usually reading the Press or spitting cookies at Aimee or something during the ride rather than watching where we were going.



I'm confident I can get out of the mess, but not in time to pick up my Zoe. So I call my dad. I should have just told him I was running late at work, but I made the mistake of blurting out my crossroads. Two things are just as important to Pittsburghers as calling a Steelers game: predicting the weather, and offering TEN ways to get to the same place.

"GO LEFT GO LEFT!" Dad yells. I'm stopped at a light.

I'm the frontrunner in the go-straight lane, and there's about 40 cars that have been waiting patiently in the lane to turn left. Ain't happening. I tell him I see a sign for 279 or 379 or I-95, I don't remember, LOL, but he's vehemently against that one, but it's that or go into the river. At the last second I see a sign for my alternate bridge... and let's just say I'm no expert at cleaning snow off my windows... I can't see shit... don't know if I can whip over and take that lane... that ramp... so...

I just do it.

Nothing dramatic. I just skidded into line with the other cars. I got into the wrong lane and probably waited 15 minutes longer than I should have to get to the tunnel and beyond.

Hey, I'm learning my way around again. Maybe the Florida plate helps in times like these. People just want to stay out of the way of a blatant rookie.

Now I know TWO ways to get to the Fort Pitt Bridge and into the tunnels. That's in addition to my THREE nifty ways to get to the West End Bridge. I'm catching up.


The West End Bridge, in the foreground, is the route I normally take to and from work. This is not my photo, but could be if you turned it black and white but left the bridge yellow and threw in a fog, rain and/or snow filter. But, you get the picture.