Yesterday a hill got the best of me. 

Since the time I got my driver's license years ago, I have had all of two occasions to drive in heavy snow and ice.  Yes, I lived up north for a number of years, but having been back in the south for most of my adult life, I have rarely had to deal with such precarious driving conditions.   Out of necessity (absolutely not because I wanted to, because, though these experiences are few and far between in the metro area, I know enough to call them what they are: days meant for staying in), I sucked it up and rose early Saturday morning, knowing that driving anywhere around town was a shaky idea at best.  I figured that being up early on this type of Saturday morning in the south practically guaranteed me the road to myself, thus decreasing my chances of incident by, say, about 50%.  As my mom always says, driving is not just about how you yourself operate your car, but also watching out/ anticipating what other drivers do or might do.   Guess I figured that this factor, in addition to my plans for an excessively low speed and watching the road like a hawk would cover my bases. 

Since I was up and out against my will, I decided I might as well make the best of it and get something out of it for me, so I dropped my camera in my purse for the rare opportunity to capture Georgia covered in a mysterious, magical blanket of white.  I was so glad I'd had the foresight to do this, because, though I didn't get anywhere near all the shots that I'd wanted to, I was pleased to capture just a few with my faithful old canon.  At every turn, my artist's eye was in ecstasy, and I was saying aloud how beautiful and worth it this drive was.  At every opportunity, I took advantage of the fact that the roads were quiet, and I was practically alone, to stop my jeep and snap pictures, stealing these sights to treasure later. 

       

There  were a few exceptional shots that I wish I could have gotten, but, in this case, a little was better than nothing.   Finally somewhat satisfied that I had enough to savor later, I hunkered down for the remainder of my drive. 

So anyway, despite a few nervewracking  slippery spots, I was managing okay.  I was beginning to encounter other drivers, and the variables that come with them.  Once I left the two-lane back road I had been on to get onto a major road, things started getting complicated.  Almost immediately I encountered a pair of vehicles which had obviously been involved in a collision.   I carefully picked my way around them, reassuring myself I would make it fine, but I gotta admit I was starting to get nervous.  That was when I approached a downhill slope.  It's not what you think.  I navigated that just fine, but it was what I spotted on the next hill stretching upwards in front of me that caused me to start to think this whole thing was a bad idea.  Two cars were stopped just sitting, midway up the hill.  At first I thought that they too had been in a collision, but once I myself got to the uphill slope, I realized the problem.  They were stuck and couldn't overcome the ice on the hill.  It was like those quicksand scenes in old movies, where people run up to see what's wrong and why the person is stuck and end up in the quicksand themselves.  I got so far up, then realized my wheels where spinning, and I could go no further.   What made it worse was that each time I took my foot off of the brakes and pushed the gas, I just slid backwards and to the side, closer and closer to a somewhat deep ditch, which I knew if I went into, I wasn't getting out of anytime soon. 

Slowly, more cars began to accumulate behind me and the other drivers around me, some honking their horns until they too, became stuck.  In hindsight, if I had been well experienced in this sort of thing, I would have laid off the brakes, and before other cars started blocking the way behind me, carefully let myself slide back down the hill.  A frustrating feeling of helplessness overtook me, as I watched other cars sailing around beside me and behind me, fighting to gain control.  I called several people to let them know where I was, but I was in a bind where no one could get to me to help me (most people here are just not equipped for this), and I was unable to help myself.  Thinking about the situation now, I realize I took for granted that, here in the south, salt and sand trucks are not a routine thing that happens to help people get where they need to be despite the whims of the weather.  I also forgot about how, as northerners my family and I knew that when the weather was severe, that waiting till midday for the sun to naturally clear things up was the best bet.  I have to chuckle now about how I called 911 to report the situation and ask if they could dispatch salt trucks to assist us.  The lady told me what I should have expected to hear in a place unfamiliar with these circumstances: "ma'am there's nothing we can do".

As I sat there, dumbfounded, men started to emerge from vehicles.  They picked their way up the hill, sometimes losing their balance, and started bracing themselves cooperatively around one car after another.  In clumsy, repeatedly unsuccessful attempts, they pushed cars, which continued to swing dangerously, wheels spinning this way and that.  At one point, I was sure one of the men would get pinned between a gold honda and my truck as, in a failed attempt, the car swung around in front of me.

                                               
Gradually (over the course of about an hour and a half), with their persistent efforts, one car after another was pushed up the hill.  I watched as men of various backgrounds directed drivers and worked together to push them up the slope.  One man with a large pickup had pulled up to the front of the cluster of cars (although I swear I don't remember seeing where he came from, so he could have been a guardian angel in his white truck, for all I knew), and they were using a yellow utility strap he'd been carrying in his truckbed to pull cars that couldn't be moved by pushing.  I could see them trying not to grin at their triumph (boys SO love to fix things).   As cars began to make their way up the hill, and the way behind me began to clear, I started releasing my brakes and letting myself back down the hill so I could veer out to the left and cut through a less icy spot on the road.  They gathered behind my truck and began to push, coaching me not to hit the gas too hard.  They ended up using the man with the pickup truck and the strap to pull me, but finally I was free.  I hit my horn a couple of times and waved as I drove off, but they didn't seem to notice, since they were already on to the next car. 

As I was pulling over the top of the hill I heard a police officer on a bullhorn telling new arrivals at the bottom of the hill to turn back because the road was now closed.  I spent the rest of the day and some of the next shaken and irritated at anything I felt was trivial in the scheme of things.  I kept thinking about how horrible it had been to feel totally helpless.  I'm accustomed to being resourceful, finding a way to help myself and others, where possible.  But here was a situation where all I could do was wait for someone to help me.  Wish I had some profound way to wrap up the whole experience, that might be of value to someone reading this, but all I can say was that it was another something in my daily life (that's been happening a LOT lately, good and bad) that truly gave me a new perspective on me, the world, and my place in it.  I don't have some lofty moral to share as a result, but I do have a lot of thinking to do in my quiet times.  Maybe sort of like a life lesson with some homework.