Too little, too late
Sometimes the snow comes too late to be anything but a bother. Although the probs have told us to be ready, even if we don’t know the hour or the day, this afternoon’s snowfall just made the daily transit last longer. Well, about double the usual 45 minutes, but by the time the third bus of the ride has been delayed or lost, and the battery on the neigbour’s cellphone is too low to give a clock reference, it doesn’t really matter.
But what’s the story on all the crazy people that are allowed to drive in storms at sundown? Is there a special class of operator permit that isn’t referenced in the various government manuals? The closer our bus got to the city centre, the more frantic and distracted the drivers in cars that our bus driver was forced to dodge. A very patient man. No horn, no special “motorist to motorist” hand signals. Perfect aplomb. We watched the red light runners, we heard the “I’m in a line” klaxons, the slushy squeal of brakes (is that a sign of imminent collision?) Up high, in our transit-mobile, we can remain impervious. After all, every accident I’ve seen between the average sedan and a city bus has been a decision by knockout.
The meteo people promise more overnight, but that will, again, come in as too little, too late. Already I;m jealous of the Island, where the first snow day of the season has been registered. Winter should be enjoyed, at home, after the happy dance of a school closure bulletin.
