A Warm Place Nelson S.W. Chang It was at the Santiam Pass in Oregon that I encountered a snow blizzard, the first in my life. I was driving a car with my family, my wife, son and two daughters. It was at first interesting and then exciting as our car slowly wended its way through the fast deepening snow. The wind was blowing hard and the snow was blowing laterally and whiting out visibility. The blowing snow was so thick it became dark. Our headlights were on and so were the headlights of all the other cars moving in both directions. We could not see the pavement, nor could we see the road. We tried to stay on the road by minding the roadside snow markers on the shoulders of the road. It was difficult even to see the tall snow laden trees to the right and left of the road. Visibility was at best 40 feet. When our tires began to slip I pulled over to the side of the road to put snow chains onto the rear tires. I exited the car into the pelting snow and the deep freeze and left my family in the car. I opened the trunk to retrieve the chains, but soon I felt that familiar urgent pressure in my bladder. I needed to relieve myself. My glasses were clouded over and covered with snow. I could barely see and my hands quickly froze as I took off my gloves. I thought that visibility was so bad that despite the many lines of cars going both ways no one would notice me relieving myself in the blowing snow. My bladder was insistent and screaming. I needed relief before going about putting the chains on. I walked about ten feet from my car in the deep snow and unzipped myself. Although cars with their headlights were moving all about, I relieved myself and proceeded to walk back when another car pulled off to the side of the road behind mine. A woman rushed out of her car and over to the passenger side of her car to put on her chains. Before I could even warn her in the howling snow, where I had relieved myself just seconds before, she knelt down in the warmest, yellowiest spot of the Santiam Pass on that desolate snow covered shoulder of the road. As I turned away to trudge back to my car, I smiled and then chuckled and then laughed hysterically, and I hoped that I had at least given her some warmth and comfort in the freezing blizzard. At least it was some consolation to assuage my fast passing sense of guilt. It was, after all, no way to make the acquaintance of a fellow motorist. Kevin Chang, Erin Elina Wells, Kelly Bow Tsin Chang, Alma Siria Vega
Posted on: Sat, 28 Sep 2013 04:14:54 +0000
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