How many times have I said: it seemed like a good idea at the time….?
I don’t know, but someone once said that bad decisions make good stories and so I begin the saga of meeting friends at Starbucks on a snowy Tuesday morning.
How this date was even set up is odd. Two of my dearest friends had not seen each other in a while and planned to meet for coffee one Tuesday morning. One lives in Franklin and the other in Randolph. Geographically, it would seem unfair to meet in the town of one, when the other is 50 minutes away, but no. The one who lives in Randolph, babysits her two grandsons in Warwick, NY. Now the story becomes complicated. The young lads both have pre-school in the area of Warwick, probably in Vernon. The mother and father of the two lads were out of the country at a work related convention for the week…so, the lads were being watched by their two grandmothers who both live in Randolph. The grandmother who babysits them daily, who is also my friend, decided that she would try to maintain some normalcy in their lives and take them to pre-school. After she left them at pre-school, she had a two and one half hour window…hence the coffee date. How did I get involved? I had not seen the Franklin friend in a very long time and I love to spend time with my Randolph friend anytime, so each one, separately, asked me if I would like to join them. I had originally said “maybe”. Maybe turned to “yes” when I looked at a relatively blank schedule for the week.
So we all gathered at Starbucks on Route 23 in Franklin. It was comfortable and not too crowded. We ordered our coffees, commented on their jargon for cup sizes and settled into the kind of chatter longtime friends get into after long absences. Our conversation was so engrossing that we failed to notice the weather, doing what it had been forecast to do, but starting several hours earlier than predicted. Our babysitter friend had to leave at 11:00, which was a good thing, because we were then all shaken into awareness of time, place and weather. She said: You two can stay, I have to get the boys.
I decided that since I had a long ride, that I would leave then. Good idea!
We went out to our cars, which already were covered with snow. I opened the trunk and dug around for the snowbrush/scraper. Fortunately, I have one with a telescoping handle that reached beyond halfway over the roof. As fast as I was brushing off the snow, new one was replacing it. I started the car and put on the defrosters- front and rear. As I backed out of the parking space, I realized that the highway was not plowed…this was my first realization that I might be in really big trouble. I shook off the negative thought and reminded myself of my resolution to stay focused in the moment and not to “awfulize”. As I pulled onto the highway, I was able to steer the car normally and all seemed to be going well. I turned onto Route 517, which would take me to Sparta. 517 was relatively flat and straight, even though unplowed. I noticed that the local school was still in session. I made a turn onto the access road that would take me thru Sparta and it was also unplowed and it was a little more hilly and curvy. I was hugging the road quite well and decided that staying in the moment was keeping me calm, so I should continue to do so. I drove thru the center of Sparta and the roads were getting worse and worse. The road takes a dip down and then there is a steep climb up past Lake Mohawk. Fortunately, the light was on blinker and I was able to continue down the incline and up the hill without stopping. The hill continued to climb and I noticed several cars slipping and sliding. I am still not panicking. The road continues to go up and down several steep hills with no sign of having been plowed. Within a mile of getting onto Sparta-Stanhope Road, I encountered the sander/spreader plow truck. It was immediately in front of me. I remembered a joke about a blonde and a sander truck, but it seemed less funny than I recalled: the blonde knocks on the window of the truck, when he stops for a red light, “you are dropping some of your load” she tells him. He ignores her and continues on…this continues for several more stops until he reveals that he is driving a sander truck for the road department.
I followed the truck, thinking that if I had to, I could stop at my friend’s house. She lives in a townhouse complex right on this road. The sand truck was plowing and spreading sand. This made the road much more navigable. I approached the townhouse complex and glanced toward the entrance…it was untouched by plow or snow shovel….I continued on my way behind my new best friend, the snow plow/sander. It was an extremely long ride, which seemed to be getting longer and longer. There was a row of cars and trucks behind me. Coming from the opposite direction, there were a few cars, but not too many. This road is extremely hilly and twisty. My normal turn, at a blinker light, is a very sharp left turn up a hill to a hairpin turn. I decided that I would skip it and follow the plow. This would take me to a longer, but flatter route. The plow and I continued on Sparta Stanhope Road, past the library and bus garage and past Lenape Valley High School. Shortly past the high school, the plow made a sharp left turn off the main road. Reluctantly, I abandoned my friend and I continued on Sparta Stanhope Road to where it ended on Brooklyn Road. Now, in good weather, Brooklyn Road is bad. It is a constant source of wonder as to why people would choose to live along such hills and turns, building their houses so very close to the road. How close to the road? They can open their front doors and reach into their curbside mailboxes. This road looked like it had been plowed, but the heavy snow was rapidly covering the work of the plow. Staying in the moment, as I promised myself, I was not panicking. The roads although snowy, were not icy. Eventually, I passed a “Welcome to Hopatcong” sign. With that landmark, the roads appeared cleaner and well sanded. From that point on there was no problem navigating the precarious turns. I made a solemn promise to myself. As long as I stayed in New Jersey, I would live in Hopatcong, they knew how to take good care of their roads in bad weather. From Brooklyn Road, I turned onto Lakeside Boulevard, which was plowed and salted. As I continued through the center of town and up the hill, I passed the police station, I followed a car that was barely moving, but made a turn into the bank parking lot. Bad decision, I thought…you need to go home, in the time you spend getting money, the roads will just get worse. I shook off the negative thought and continued down a rollercoaster of a road to a traffic light at the bottom of a hill. I had no trouble stopping. I noticed that Hopatcong Schools were still in session. I continued thru River Styx, across the River Styx Bridge and along to where Maxim Drive begins. After three more blocks, I made a familiar turn onto my street, which had been plowed and around 10 houses down, I saw that my husband had shoveled and salted the driveway, but snow covered much of it. I turned into the very steep driveway, using the remote to open the garage door. I got the car off the street and up the driveway, but was having trouble getting all the way up and into the garage. I tested the brake to see it if would hold if I needed to leave it in the driveway. It seemed steady and the driveway was not too slippery. I guess that knowledge gave me the courage to gun the engine and we glided through into the garage. I was so happy to be on pavement that was flat and not snow covered. Positive thinking and staying in the moment paid off.
wordsmith647 