OK Tereza, you have me beat for shear, horrifying winter terror. I have had my share of how-am-I-going-to-get-out-of-this-alive stories, but none of them involved winter stories. I have many devil-may-care-cheat-death stories, but I don't think I ever felt that kind of terror associated with anything winter-related.
I assume that the snow was falling fast/hard enough that your own tracks were covered quickly? And also that your typical landmarks were no longer recognizable? I am certainly glad that you made it out!
My first story was maybe the closest to a get-out-alive that I actually have. I definitely was challenged--multiple times, but I was challenged right up to my skill level which is the type of challenge that we like the best--neither too little nor too great a challenge.
I did have a good winter storm story which must have been in the winter of 91-92 (this was probably January '92). During summers, I worked at a DQ. I had worked there enough that the owner would hire me back during my breaks. She even hired me back during winter break when DQ is notoriously slow (although we did have a kitchen).
On that winter, I went back, started on a Monday or Tuesday and noticed that we were out of almost everything in the store. Our delivery was on Wednesday. Wednesday came and there was a dangerous winter storm brewing just to the west. I got a phone call from the day manager (not owner) that she had already been snowed in and could not get there and that we would just be closed that day. I tended to work the night shift and had my own key. The day manager lived about twenty miles to the west and I lived about 5-10 miles to the east. I was about to just accept that I had a day off when I realized that we had a delivery that was vital and that they would be there in less than a half-hour. I went in just to let the delivery in and then leave.
I took the most direct route in, a route I would not be able to take back due to severe drifting (runs N-S). I got in the building when immediately the phone rang. I knew without answering that it was my mother and she wanted me to get out NOW!. The storm had already reached the west side of town. I told her that the truck just pulled in and that I would unload and then leave (5min). I would take a longer route home that was less prone to drifting (NW-SE). I pulled out of the parking lot and made my way to the edge of town when a white wall hit me. I was in complete whiteout conditions. At times it was so bad that I could not see the front third of the hood of my car--and I drove a 1990 Ford Escort--not exactly a huge car!. I literally could have stuck my arm out and lost my hand in the whiteout!
When that level of whiteout hit, about all I could do was to put the car into neutral (it was a stick) and let the car slow down on its own while I did my very best to drive by what I thought was my recollection of where the road was--not a perfect situation. I dared not slam on the breaks--I likely would skid. And I did not want to stop--someone might rear-end me. I would coast-drive until the whiteout let up and then I got back into my lane (I was surprisingly accurate at anticipating where the road should have been!). But I could never get anywhere close to full speed--I would get slammed with another whiteout!
Typically this route home was about 15 minutes. It took me two hours. It was a lot of speed up (a little), coast down, correct, repeat. The whiteouts got worse/longer and I got worse at anticipating where the road was supposed to be. After one particularly long whiteout, the conditions abruptly cleared and I could momentarily see perhaps 1/4 mile ahead--and I was about to drive off the LEFT side of the road! That got my attention! I made my way slowly but surely and got back home no worse for wear, but with a great little story to tell.
Eric
