Winters in New England tend to be long drawn out affairs. I am not a big fan of the cold or the snow but I must admit one of my favorite sounds in the world is the sound of snow falling at midnight. Even if the machines are trying to hammer their way through my skull they will stop for a moment to listen and enjoy the peace.
The ride home with my Dad was quiet. We were driving home from a theater that had once been a national landmark. We were going to be in a telethon to raise money for its restoration.
I was playing a few Hendrix tunes. He was performing a dance tribute to James Brown.
"It just needs something," he said. I could tell he was working out the steps in his head.
He had plenty of time to work it out. The recent snowfall made driving home on the back roads a nightmare.
"Slow and steady," he instructed. "When you get your license in a few months some of this mess will still be on ground. No reason to try to fly home. The house ain't goin' no where. You just have to get there safe. Slow and steady is how you do it. As long as you have the momentum to keep moving you'll get where you need to go."
A little sedan passed us on the left and disappeared around the corner.
"No reason for anybody to be passing on roads like this," he said shaking his head. "Isn't that your friend, Stotler?" He raised an eyebrow. "Looks like his parents car and they're out of town."
"No?" I said, wondering out loud if it was true. There had been incidents with bikes, quads, and snowmobiles so the question of a Stotler joyride in the snow wasn't far fetched.
"He doesn't have his license so I don't think he'd be that stupid." I questioned myself again.
My father had raised children for years. He was well aware of the stupidity of teenage boys.
"All that matters is that the boy gets home safe." He shook his head with the concern of a parent.
Curtis Mayfield played quietly in the tape deck. Between songs you could hear the crunching of snow beneath the tires. This was just the beginning of the storm. It was supposed to snow heavily from midnight until mid afternoon the next day. We would be home well before midnight that night. Everyone knew school was going to be canceled. This meant I could stay up and listen to the snowfall.
"Damn it." I heard him say as we came around a corner. The little sedan had gone off the road into a snow bank.
Winters in New England tend to be long drawn out affairs.
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