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outrunning a Shenandoah Valley snowstorm
Tuesday, February 11 2025
location: the couch in the Shaque, Stingy Hollow Road, rural Augusta County, VA
Not long after I woke up this morning, the snow that had been predicted began falling. I was communicating with both Jessika and Gretchen at the time, and Jessika was pretty sure I should try to head back north to Hurley as quickly as I could to outrun the storm, as otherwise I would likely be stuck in the Shenandoah Valley for days. Combined with my growing awareness that there was no way the law office where I'd set up a meeting today would be open today, this seemed like sound advice. I just needed to clear it with Gretchen. When I told her about the storm and the unlikelihood of a meeting with the attorney even if I stayed, she seemed okay with me heading home. At around this time my brother Don called me and announced the obvious: the snow was really coming down. So I gathered up my things, made myself a travel mug of tea using an electric tea pot Joy Tarder had loaned me, and then went over to Creekside to tell Don goodbye. As I did so I dubbed him the "Duke of Creekside Manor," since the trailer was now entirely his.
As I was driving out towards I-81 on Stingy Hollow Road, there was about of quarter inch of dry snow on the ground, and it was sticking to the road in places. So I was careful driving through some of the turns. But by the time I made it onto I-81, the road was entirely clear. And somewhere around the Rockingham County Line (20 miles from home), there was no longer snow on the ground. Not far beyond that, there was no longer any snow falling from the sky. I wouldn't see falling snow for the rest of the drive, meaning I had outrun the storm.
Near Winchester, I took an exit so I could gas up, get some gas station coffee, and take a proper poop. I ended up at a Wawa, where gas prices were less than $3/gallon. They also had a very clean bathroom seemingly designed for someone who had been staying at a place without a bathroom. Before I got going, I arranged all my road food on the passenger seat so it would be easy to get to as I drove. I also had a bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice, which would allow me to mix myself a couple weak screwdrivers along the way (one near Hazleton, PA, and the other at the NY State line). I didn't have to stop even once after that, and made it home to Hurley just before 4:00pm. The whole ride had taken almost exactly 7 hours. (I suspect one of the reasons it had gone so quickly was that there were weather warnings along the entire route urging people not to travel. This made traveling for those who did an unusually uncrowded activity.)
The one amazing thing I saw along the drive was a large jetliner circling near Harrisburg, evidently preparing to land. Suddenly I saw a shower of sparks rain down from its engines. At first I thought that it must be about to suffer some serious problem, the kinds of which I have only seen in dreams. But no, it kept circling as I kept driving northeastward. I messages Gretchen about it and later looked for news about an event (perhaps one related to the ongoing DOGE-ificiation of airline traffic control) but could find nothing.
Back home in Hurley, Gretchen was in bed with the dogs, probably sick with whatever I was still recovering from. But she had to rally and go teach her prison poetry class. To help with that, she took some pseudoephedrine. Meanwhile I fixed myself a series of boozy beverages and did various things. I tried to take the dogs for a walk, but they didn't want to go. So I ended up holed up in the laboratory watching YouTube videos.
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