Slip Sliding Away

A fear I have worked hard to suppress is that once we have been programmed to accept that we all must stay home, that the majority will remain in that state of inertia. 

As such, I have tried to continue moving forward, living as much like normal as the situation will allow.

In Montana, restaurants have been open for indoor dining for months without ill effects, so we make a point of eating out at least once a week.

We've enjoyed live music every Friday evening in February at Acre, one of three venues we know to have live music Fridays in Big Sky Town Center.

The folk/country music by local musicians has been terrific.

Of course, Montana has considerably colder weather in February than California, where we've spent most of our Februaries in recent years. 

Hiking along gorgeous mountain trails has proven to be very special during winter, just as it is in summer.  We bundle up to walk at least two miles every day, including when it drops below zero.

About once a week, we like to head into the nearby "big city" of Bozeman to do some shopping.  Despite some overnight snow that covered the streets and temperatures below zero, we made an early morning start.

That proved to be a mistake.

Our Ford Escape has four-wheel drive, which keeps us stable as we move along the highway, but while one facet of inertia is that a body at rest will remain at rest, an extension of that scientific principle is that a body in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

When I came around a blind curve on Highway 191 to see a car stopped to make a left turn 100 yards ahead, I calmly applied pressure to the brake pedal, but it didn't slow our momentum at all.

I pushed down harder, but some unconscous calculation in my brain recognized that we weren't slowing fast enough and had my foot pumping the brake as I had learned to do back in the Air Force driver training Wyoming 45 years ago.

Slowing but nonetheless sliding, I hit my horn, as a warning to the car ahead, but that driver had nowhere to go, as a steady flow of skiers and construction workers in opposing traffic blocked her turn into Gallatin Golden Gate Bridge's T-intersection that led to here home.

I thought I might just stop in time, or perhaps she would either go forward or get a break in which she could make her turn, but a few feet before impact I realized this would not happen, so I veered right, in hopes the snow on the shoulder wouldn't be too deep.

While sliding past the stopped car, I tried to accelerate to make it through the snow, but unfortunately, the shoulder turned out to be more of a ditch, and the nose of our SUV just burrowed in.

However, all was not lost.  We weren't injured. The other driver, a lovely young lady named Abigail who reminded us of our daughter-in-law Sasha, offered to take us to her house, where she had cell service on the corner of her front porch.

She invited us to wait inside until the calvary arrived despite the fact that she needed to get to work.  Over the course of the morning, she went above and beyond, driving us into town and back, among other things.

Long story short, we had a trying time contacting towing companies, waiting by the car only to learn they had called and assumed we no longer needed help when we failed to answer the phone, apparently oblvious to the fact that we had told them we didn't have cell service by the car.  Eventually, we hooked up about four hours later and were winched out by the tow truck driver.  There was no damage at all to our Ford Escape.

Looking at this experience another way, it was a blessing.  We could have ended up like Tiger Woods, or worse.  God gave us a soft landing that was an inconvenient warning.  This is Montana, where white crosses crop up occasionally as reminders to slow down when roads are frozen.

Not only that, we experienced the kindness of a stranger.  Buying her a gift card of thanks at Tips Up gave us a good excuse to have a delicious chicken dinner there.