A Thousand Miles Through the Snow

Driving for hours on end from one state to another is already taxing enough. But what about driving great distances in a snowstorm? More specifically, covering 1,045 miles in such weather? 

On January 3, a snowstorm hit the east coast. Many people, including my family, were making their post-holiday trek home when this storm hit. From Virginia to New Jersey, roads went completely white. To some, this scene is a winter wonderland; but to us, it was a total nightmare. As we watched cars slip and slide, swerve, or get stuck between lanes, my excitement for a snow day had quickly turned into dread and fear.

Just Before Noon

Just before noon, on the day before the storm arrived, my family and I left Florida with the alarming news of an impending winter storm. After driving for hours, the clock hit 1:00 a.m., so we decided to stop and regain our energy for the rest of the lengthy trip. The Hampton Inn hotel in Wilson, South Carolina provided us with shelter for a quick 2-hour rest. As much as we wished to stay in the warm, snug hotel to rest a few more hours, our need to stay ahead of the storm beckoned us to our car. We were on the road for a few hours, the time being 6:30 a.m., when snow started falling in Fredericksburg, Virginia. It was falling light at first, tricking us into thinking it wouldn’t get worse; but as more snow started to accumulate, so too did our anxieties.

Each road trip we take has its own obstacles and unknowns. Heavy traffic, the amount of stops taken, careless drivers, weather (of course). This trip, however, was an entirely different story. We’ve had multiple road trips in the past where we had driven by horrible accidents or even came close to being in one ourselves. I recall one road trip where there was an erratic driver who kept switching from lane to lane, swerving in front of cars. In the distance, we could see that we were about to hit heavy traffic so we decided to call the cops and report the reckless driver. Witnessing this, my mind became overshadowed with thoughts of how dangerous the road truly is and the responsibilities that weigh on a driver’s back. 

When I asked my father about what it was like to drive in snow he responded, “You can’t get overconfident, you have to drive slow.” 

My father then continued to go into more “mechanical” talk. He informed me about why the smaller cars were slipping and how other cars may have been in four-wheel drive. He told me that four-wheel drive spins out and breaks, so using it in snowy conditions would be a mistake.

The Worst of the Storm

The roads from Virginia to New Jersey were extremely hard to navigate, especially Virginia where we encountered the worst of the storm. An ominous shade of gray cast over the sky, releasing mountainous serges of snow, rapidly packing the roads with white treachery. At times, our windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the snowfall, forcing my mother to put half her body out the passenger window to wipe the snow herself. 

Interstate 95 became caked with snow to the point where drivers paved their own paths, trying to navigate through the unfortunate vehicles already claimed by the storm. I remember looking out the front window and seeing so many cars stuck or sliding everywhere. Standing by the side of those stuck cars were their drivers in the frigid air trying to move their cars or get help. We couldn’t help but feel anxious. My older sister admitted she was too scared to sleep for fear of waking to a nightmare scenario of our own car crashing in the storm.

When I spoke to my parents about this particular moment, they became visibly upset. “I wanted to stop and help people,” my father said, “but I knew if I stopped… I’m putting my family in danger.” 

Underlying each trouble was more fear and anxiety. To witness people get stuck and desperately fight to get out of the snow made our hearts sink. As much as we wanted to stop and help, we had to turn our heads and keep moving for our own sake. 

“I felt very bad for the people who were driving next to us and the next thing you know they were stuck,” my mother said. “You wanted to help them, but at the same time you knew if you stopped you would get stuck.”

The Illusions of Calm

A few hours out from Virginia, the storm became calmer. We had reached New Jersey and only had one more hour left of driving. What could go wrong? we thought.

The Atlantic City Expressway did not cause us any trouble until we reached the Brigantine Connector. In sudden fashion, the worst of the storm had caught up to us, creating  whiteout conditions and causing my dad to take the wrong exit. Instead of heading for the Brigantine Bridge, we found ourselves on the exit for the casinos. We thought we could get through and pursue a different route, but the roads near the casinos were caved in with what looked to be at least a foot of snow. 

After driving down a short road, we reached a tiny intersection and got stuck before we could make the turn. My parents tried to push through the snow. For all their effort, the car moved forward maybe an inch. We had no other option, so my sister and father both got out and tried to push the car as my mom drove. Still, we got nowhere. With my offers to help declined, I sat in the backseat watching the desperate, but failing, efforts of my family. At one point, my sister insisted that my parents call the fire department, but my parents were determined to get out without troubling the authorities–who, we were sure, had more important troubles to address. After bickering for a while, our luck took a turn. Two people drove by with a snow plow. 

We honked our horn and yelled for help. The snow plowers stopped. At first they used their snow plow and drove around our car, attempting to push the snow away. After plowing the snow, my dad, these two men, and another man (who was stuck behind us) attempted to push the car. While they pushed the car, my mom pushed on the gas. Despite these efforts, the wheels struggled with traction. My dad suddenly came up with the idea of putting a flip flop under a tire so it could have something to grip onto. As weird as this idea sounded to me (and perhaps to the others), it worked. With the flip flop under the tire, and the four men pushing, our car managed to break through the snow. Grateful for their help, my dad swiftly hopped back in the car with melting snow dripping from his freezing self. He took a few minutes to endure the warmth of the vehicle before starting the final 10-minute route home.

Home

With snow caked and stacked everywhere, the journey down familiar streets to our house took longer than usual. Our last trouble on this trip was our driveway; snow had built up on the curb, almost blocking our entrance to the garage. With sudden relief, we powered through the packed snow and pulled into the garage in somewhat disbelief. Over a thousand miles later through a beastly snowstorm, our trip had finally come to an end. As we walked into our house we were eagerly welcomed by our two dogs. They leaped onto us, whimpering and barking– attempting to communicate how much they missed us, yet so happy because we were back home. 

It’s difficult to imagine the relief that came over my dad the instant he stepped foot into our house. He told me that, when we were just beyond reach of our home, he could almost feel the warmth of his bed. After driving for 20 hours straight through a treacherous storm system and finally reaching home, he immediately fell into the comfort of his bed and drifted off to sleep. It took him a few days to fully recover from that trip. In fact, we all felt a bit foggy; the house had a vibe to it that seemed unreal. Yet, through our almost surreal state of fatigue, we were extremely grateful to escape the grasp of the snow and road.