Jan 1, 2018 3 min read

When I was a child, we lived on a dirt road cut back into the hills of southern Washington County. We had a long driveway that was also gravel, and it was one heck of a challenge to make it all the way to the top when there was snow or ice on it.

After my folks built their house on another part of the property, the driveway changed. It was no longer so long, but it was twice as steep. On one side was a ditch, and the other side was a bank filled with trees. Making it to the top when it had snowed carried its own challenges.

There were many white knuckle drives up and down that stretch of dirt. I remember having to be pulled out of the ditch on numerous occasions. I remember sliding down the driveway several times, once even doing a 180 degree turn and finishing the slide in reverse. I remember parking at the bottom and walking up it instead.

Those walks could have constituted an entire day’s worth of cardio, as one had to utilize every muscle in the body to remain upright and continue moving forward up the often-slippery surface. Add in the groceries we sometimes carried, and it was ballet no one would pay to see.

As you are probably aware, we had our first significant snowfall of the season this weekend, and it happened to coincide with dinner plans my sister and I had with our families. We were going to meet at my parents’ house to continue the renovations we’ve undertaken and to share a meal. Knowing the driveway can be so sketchy, we opted instead to eat at my house and to forego the reno for the weekend.

However, as we were eating, it came to my attention the gift the kids had gotten for my sister for Christmas was under the tree at the other house. So, after dinner, we got into the car and headed over to try our luck at the driveway anyway.

We opened the gate at the bottom and then drove on down the road to turn around. As in the old days, we had to get a run for it, in order to ensure there was enough momentum to carry us to the top. At the bottom of the hill, I punched the gas pedal and began to pick up speed. Five, 10, 15 mph, I kept pressing the gas. I hit the bottom of the driveway at about 25 mph. Like a rocket, we hurtled up the driveway, bouncing and squealing like ninnies.

When we got to the top, I depressed the brakes and slid into a stop. We grabbed the gift, chatted for a few minutes, and piled back into the car. As I backed up into the area reserved for turning around, the front end of the car continued sliding, starting us down the driveway. Several times, I tried to slow my vehicle, but would start to slide. Instead, I allowed the two-ton sled to sail, though turning the steering wheel back and forth to attempt to slow the decent.

The bottom was reached safely, though not quietly, as someone was screaming, “Again, let’s do it again!” the entire way down. Personally, I had enjoyed enough of my trip down memory’s icy, slippery lane.

Laura Zoeller may be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.