My car was ready for the snow this morning, idling happy in it’s new hankook winter i*cept iz2 shoes. The ice snapped off the windows like so many chunks of peanut brittle as I hit them with the scraper, falling to the ground with a dull thud. Was I ready? Could I really be Winter Subaru Man™ again?
The shovel handle felt hard in my hand as an icy gust bit at my face and laughed at my audacity to stand against its force. My back strained against the weight of wet snow. I am but one man, and winter is a very large and powerful season. Who am I to think I can dare to oppose it?
Then it happens. I close the door, taking momentary reprieve in the warm air blowing back at my face. I grip the wheel and feel the satisfying snick as I shift into first. My toe dips into the accelerator pedal like one checks the temperature of a pool. As if to answer my questioning, the deep burble of the engine awakens into a healthy growl. Nosing into the roadway, I push deeper into the pedal and laugh as the car slides out of sorts, then claws back to a straight line and launches forward like a leopard lunging at prey. “Yes” I say, to no one in particular. I am ready too.