3:00 PM — …After scraping the ice from the car, I had no choice but to take 84 east to try and get across the Connecticut River, bound for Ellington. Over two hours after leaving work and about 6 or 7 near misses later, I still wasn’t within sight of the Hartford skyline. Hearing on the AM radio that multiple tractor trailers had jacknifed between 44 and 46, I decided to bail on Exit 43 into the back roads of West Hartford. The streets were a nightmare, and I heard on the news this morning that W. Hartford got 11″ of snowfall, some of the most in the state (aside from the NW corner). Not a great choice there.
5:30 PM — I made my way to a Shell station in town, fueled up, and borrowed a cell phone from the clerk to call Sarah. Our Simsbury branch got out at 1:00, and Sarah was already home by that point. I hung up with her and decided to try and make my way up to 291 and cross into the eastern portion of the state that way. I bought a map, de-iced the windows and got rolling again…
… Lo and behold, a few wrong turns later and I was plowing through downtown Hartford on Asylum and Farmington Ave. Frustrated, and getting stuck in deep snow found in every direction, I thought I had steered myself right into a trap. The only way out of the quagmire I found myself in was up a steep one-way street. What was a furious Jake with no tread on his tires to do?
Naturally, I made the logical choice. Screaming profanities at the top of my lungs, I threw the car in reverse and went backwards for no less than 3 city blocks. Suddenly, I spun out of control in one of the intersections. Curious onlookers stood and watched me pirouet across the road underneath the blinking red light. The mighty Ford Contour finally came to rest just in front of a sign that made me shout with joy: “84 East — that’away” Congratulating myself on being such a talented driver and having the blind luck necessary to stumble my way out of the snow city trap, I casually flipped on my turn signal and made my way onto the entrance ramp.
Guiding my 3000 pound Ford sled up the ramp with utmost care, I glanced over my left shoulder as I approached the highway to see what sort of traffic I’d be joining. My jaw dropped as I rounded the bend — 6:30 pm Thursday on I-84 in downtown Hartford and there wasn’t a car or person in sight. I drove onto the highway alone. The accidents a few miles north and south of the city were so bad that not a single vehicle could get through. As I neared the corner before the tunnel, I merged over to the left on that empty five lane road, and spent the next 10 minutes driving through a seemingly post-apocolyptic version of Hartford in eerie silence.
All sense of awe and wonder came to an abrupt halt shortly after finishing the last of the city underpass, where all sorts of Ackermanns came pouring off Route 2 into my lane, spoiling my epic 10 minutes of solitude. As car after car filed in alongside me, I fought hard to maintain control of the Ford. For extra challenge points, I would occasionally steer with my knees, using my now-free hands to roll down the window and punctuate my profanity-laced tirade at the other drivers with a menacing fist. Nothing says ’slow the hell down’ like an angry gloved fist out of a window during a blizzard.
0745 PM — After an hour of such mayhem, passing numerous accidents all along the I-84 corridor east of the river, I was home at last. Three miles of tricky backroads off the highway, and I pulled up to my parking spot. I ran inside, declared victory and world supremacy, and grabbed a frosty beverage or two to keep me company as I shoveled out my spot. Home at last, happy to be ALIVE.
1 response so far ↓
A fine read Jakey. The best part was the pirouet across the intersection. Should parlay fans be expecting a novel in the near future? Think about it.
I’m a little disappointed I did not receive a phone call from a certain individual inviting me to try out his new TF2 map.
I’ll be looking for ya on steam.
Later