Village Squire, 1978-02, Page 10It was almost 10 o'clock now. I was approaching the hospital
where I worked. Somehow, I had arrived without injury to body
or vehicle. 1 parked the car. did a few deep -breathing exercises,
and stretched. I had finally reached the office --one and one-half
hours Tate --only to be greeted with a welcoming "What are you
doing here?"
1 collapsed into a chair.
All day long, the heavens steadily and furiously dumped the
whitestuff. By 4:30 p.m. most of us could scarcely find our cars
let alone drive them. Everyone tried to phone home; the
switchboard jammed. Reluctantly we realized that this was no
longer a typical day.
That night a precedent was set at Goderich Psychiatric
Hospital. Never before in its eight-year history had the entire
staff been confined overnight.
Our first concern was w:tat to sleep on. My colleagues and 1
discovered, in the gymnasium, some tumbling mats which we
stealthily dragged to our cache of pillows and blankets. Our next
concern was what to do with the time. Concentration was
difficult, so we went back to the gym where an old --and I do
mean old --movie was playing. Not exactly the best in movie
entertainment but better than nothing.
Hamburgers were served at midnight. After that I went back
to work; the clock registered 1:15 a.m. By 4:47 I had had enough.
I was falling asleep. No point in sleeping then. I cased the placed
in search of other nocturnal types. It had stopped snowing.
No one was willing or able to work much next morning. The
situation outside had assumed paramount importance. It was
snowing again, as furiously as ever. By noon, though, the
heavens had temporarily exhausted their supply of whitestuff, so
my colleagues and I gingerly ventured outdoors in search of my
Volkswagen. We scraped clean one side to find the car door. I
squeezed inside, held my breath, turned on the ignition key. It
started! Two hours later, in conditions unfit for even a
snowmobile, we reached the town of Goderich.
I stopped to let off my passengers. The accelerator froze open.
The engine started racing at such a speed that I was afraid to
drive the car. Into the garage it went for the night. But a curious
thing happened in this connection. When the tow truck came for
the car, the driver neglected to inform me of his arrival and to
pick up the keys. He simply drove up and towed the car away.
Thursday morning, around 11 a.m., my friend, at whose
apartment 1 had spent the night, and I left Goderich for London.
We weren't at all sure we would make it, but we were
determined to try. In town, the blizzard had subsided. Scarcely
five miles out of town, however, we could not see two feet in
front of us. It was no longer snowing, but the wind had picked up
such force that it agitated the loose snow from drifts as high as
the car, reducing visibility to zero.
Drove into a snowbank on the left side of the road. Backed out
of that, and drove straight into a snowdrift on the right side. A
few miles farther on, a string of cars lined the side of the
highway (actually, I think it was the right lane). Using them as a
beacon, I crept alongside until halted at the front of the line. An
accident ahead, involving a school bus, was blocking the
highway, and the snow plows were stuck in the snow. So we sat.
For an hour we sat, waiting for the road to re -open.
Should we turn back? While we were deciding, I had driven
through Clinton and into the storm again. We continued in a
homeward direction. Several times we had to halt in our tracks
and get out of the car to see if we were even on the road. Then we
would drive on, at a maximum of 10 m.p.h., usually into a
snowbank. This stop -and -go procedure had continued for about
10 more miles when we stopped to let pass the flashing yellow
light that was coming toward us. It was a truck, towing a badly
8, VILLAGE SQUIRE/FEBRUARY 1978.
smashed Oldsmobile (1 think). A few minutes later, two
hitchhikers were hailing us. They were salesmen. apparently
returning to London from a business gathering when their car
collided with the Oldsmobile.
The long, slow, tense drive continued through Hensall to
Exeter. My judgment was being affected. My friend and 1 were
really glad to have help pushing the car out of its frequent
snowdrift position. For a small car, it sure was heavy. And we
were weakening.
As we approached Exeter the wind began to lose strength; we
could see again. But not far. At the southern limits of the town.
we were beginning to think that we might make it home after all,
when an O.P.P. officer informed us that the road %. as closed to
southbound traffic. I advised him of conditions to the north, but
he insisted that we wait for an hour. That was at 3:10 p.m. At
precisely 4:10 after a drink at the local legion (and a coffee). we
boarded the car and drove off --you guessed it --into a snowbank.
That taken are of. we had a comparatively uneventful journey
home. An hour later. we had covered the twenty-seven
remaining miles to London. 1 had managed to get us home
safely. and without a single bruise or dent. As we arrived at the
city limits --cold. hungry. stiff, exhausted --one of the
businessmen -passengers remarked. "Well. 1'11 never again say
anything against a Volkswagen. or a woman driver.".
That episode occurred in January 1972. But if 1 were still
commuting that route between London and Goderich, it might
well have been repeated in April 1976, January 1977, December
1977, and would you believe January 1978?...
Ah, the joys of commuting in the Snowbelt. C
CHARTER FLIGHTS!
CHARTER CLASS FLIGHTS!
What is the difference?
Ask the people who know.
THE COACH HOUSE
TRAVEL SERVICE
59 Hamilton St., Goderich
524-8366
Open 9-5:30 Mon. to Fri.
9 -noon Saturday
OR
EXETER
TRAVEL CENTRE
Main at Huron Street
Exeter 235-0571
Open 9-5:30 Monday to Friday