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Navel oranges saved my life today.
We got a wicked weather front that came through our area last night and dumped about two feet of snow on the highway. I have to travel about twenty miles between the city where I live and the university, and the road was mostly clear on the way to town but once I got within the city limits, the road became choked with ice and snow. I drove right into the center of a blizzard; almost a complete whiteout. My little Toyota doesn't do too well on windy days, so I was concentrating on keeping myself in the lane as much as possible. Then, as I slid into the beginning of the turn lane for the entrance of campus, a wall of white washed over my windshield. I couldn't see anything. Frantic, I threw the windshield wipers and cleared away the debris -- only to find that I had driven right into a three foot high snowdrift. The plows had pushed a vertical yard into the turn lane and, because of the whiteout, I couldn't see it.
I was terrified. I shifted into park and turned on my emergency lights. It was clear that I was stuck. I tried to open my door to get out, but the snow had lipped up the side of my car and I couldn't move the door more than a couple of inches. I crawled over the gearbox and looked for traffic out the passenger window before getting out to look at the damage. Sure enough, Partypants' nose was buried in a crust of powdery snow. I couldn't see her front left tire. I leaned down and started scooping away snow with my hands. I didn't have gloves and, of course, I hadn't worn a coat. I didn't anticipate having to tunnel my way to class. After a couple of minutes of digging, my hands were starting to go numb.
Then, I heard the whoosh of hydraulic breaks beside me. A large truck sidled up beside my car. The window went down, revealing a leathery red face with a ballcap screwed down over its forehead. "Do you need some help?" the man asked, indicating my car with a wag of his chin. "I'm stuck," I said sheepishly, "I can't get out." The truck driver steered his vehicle in front of mine and got out, calling to his passenger to help. They jacked up the door on the back of the truck, revealing their cargo: thousands of boxed navel oranges. A couple of them bounced off the back and into the street and the truck driver paused and stooped to collect them, cleaning them off on the front of his shirt. He put them back in one of the boxes near the front. His passenger, a stubby South American with two gold teeth and the most kinetic smile I've ever seen on a trucker, pulled a shovel from the back of the truck bed and handed it over to his boss. They proceeded to dig me out.
Once I was free and clear, I thanked them both profusely. The driver said a short command to his associate and flicked his finger toward the back of the truck. The other man climbed in and then returned to us, his arms laden with half a dozen oranges. The driver took them and unloaded them into my arms. "God bless you," I said, giving the driver a hug. "Thank you so much." I got back into my car and waved as they both climbed into the cab of their truck, puttering off into the white.
After class, I drove home with six oranges in my passenger seat.
We got a wicked weather front that came through our area last night and dumped about two feet of snow on the highway. I have to travel about twenty miles between the city where I live and the university, and the road was mostly clear on the way to town but once I got within the city limits, the road became choked with ice and snow. I drove right into the center of a blizzard; almost a complete whiteout. My little Toyota doesn't do too well on windy days, so I was concentrating on keeping myself in the lane as much as possible. Then, as I slid into the beginning of the turn lane for the entrance of campus, a wall of white washed over my windshield. I couldn't see anything. Frantic, I threw the windshield wipers and cleared away the debris -- only to find that I had driven right into a three foot high snowdrift. The plows had pushed a vertical yard into the turn lane and, because of the whiteout, I couldn't see it.
I was terrified. I shifted into park and turned on my emergency lights. It was clear that I was stuck. I tried to open my door to get out, but the snow had lipped up the side of my car and I couldn't move the door more than a couple of inches. I crawled over the gearbox and looked for traffic out the passenger window before getting out to look at the damage. Sure enough, Partypants' nose was buried in a crust of powdery snow. I couldn't see her front left tire. I leaned down and started scooping away snow with my hands. I didn't have gloves and, of course, I hadn't worn a coat. I didn't anticipate having to tunnel my way to class. After a couple of minutes of digging, my hands were starting to go numb.
Then, I heard the whoosh of hydraulic breaks beside me. A large truck sidled up beside my car. The window went down, revealing a leathery red face with a ballcap screwed down over its forehead. "Do you need some help?" the man asked, indicating my car with a wag of his chin. "I'm stuck," I said sheepishly, "I can't get out." The truck driver steered his vehicle in front of mine and got out, calling to his passenger to help. They jacked up the door on the back of the truck, revealing their cargo: thousands of boxed navel oranges. A couple of them bounced off the back and into the street and the truck driver paused and stooped to collect them, cleaning them off on the front of his shirt. He put them back in one of the boxes near the front. His passenger, a stubby South American with two gold teeth and the most kinetic smile I've ever seen on a trucker, pulled a shovel from the back of the truck bed and handed it over to his boss. They proceeded to dig me out.
Once I was free and clear, I thanked them both profusely. The driver said a short command to his associate and flicked his finger toward the back of the truck. The other man climbed in and then returned to us, his arms laden with half a dozen oranges. The driver took them and unloaded them into my arms. "God bless you," I said, giving the driver a hug. "Thank you so much." I got back into my car and waved as they both climbed into the cab of their truck, puttering off into the white.
After class, I drove home with six oranges in my passenger seat.
