OK, so not as drastic as that, but dangerous anyway!

Driving to work today was a chore. Everyone in the Twin Cities was hit with bad traffic due to an ice storm. Ice storms, for those readers not familiar with the Great White North, are not unlike thunderstorms--the sky is full of ice, and it falls to the ground; OK, so thunderstorms don't drop thunder to the ground, so maybe snow storm would have been better. Sure, it's kind of like snowing, but worse. Each precipitous drop hits whatever is beneath it, and freezes on contact.

Today, those of us who park outside of garages or other enclosures got the morning exercise of window scraping. A good 1/8 to 1/4 inch of ice had built up on my front windshield. 30 minutes of good "wax-on, wax-off" exercising, and I was ready to go.

Slow driving, even in my Explorer with its "magic traction." Magic traction is that apparent technology that all of the unprepared SUV drivers seem to believe their vehicles have. It's as if they believe because they're in a 4x4 vehicle, they don't have to dirve any differently in difficult situations. I say it thus not as a belief that my vehicle has any special powers or technology, but as a mockery of those who believe it does.

I know that my bigger tires disperse water differently than those on the sedan next to me, so I'll fare a little better in rain than they will. I know that the extra inches of clearance help me dig through those nice piles of snow that the plows leave in every intersection (before they're finished--it's not really malicious). I know also that the four-wheel-drive does better at giving my vehicle that get-up-and-go I want it to have in the worst of conditions--but I also know that it's just better, not perfect.

I made the whole drive to work without incident. I saw a car that had skid off the road and was resting on the shiny metal railing separating the street from the sidewalk, as if the stunt driver had chickened out on the car-flipping maneuver.

I saw another on the boulevard (that bit of grass between the street and sidewalk that the city owns but the closest home owner must maintain) that was facing the wrong way, like someone was trying to sell it.

I saw loads of people at intersections slam on the gas when it was there turn to go. Wheels spinning wildly, back-ends slipping left and right. This includes some 4x4 SUV drivers who didn't remember to hit the "magic traction" button, and were waiting for their truck to kick it in automatically (which seems to happen about a moment after you don't need it any more). I had hit my "stay in magic traction" button before I pulled away from the curb. No wheel spinning for me.

I pulled up to the office and slowed to a stop in front of the parking lot entrance. I was patiently sitting in the left lane, brake lights on and turn-signal signaling, and I noticed an odd thing in my rearview mirror. It was the right side of a little car. Toyota, maybe? It was hard to tell because I couldn't make out the symbol in the front.

I saw most of the right side, some of the front, but as the car drew closer, more of the right side became parallel with my rear bumper.

Not wanting to deal with insurance papers and police reports in such dreary weather, I gave my truck a little gas. Magic traction to the rescue! The engine rumbled just a little and the truck pulled forward. No tire spinning like I'd seen with other drivers, no fish tailing, no momentary prayer to the blessed gods of acceleration. Just nice big tires with all of that extra off-road moxie looking tread grabbing the ice in four-wheel-drive, just doing their jobs.

I tried to keep the car in the same spot in my rearview, which worked great. The slight incline of the road was in my favor as I faced uphill, so the loss of friction to the ice gave into gravity. The car stopped well enough behind my truck that no damage occurred to either of us--well, not the vehicles anyway. The obviously shaken driver of the skidding car (a little white in the face) gave a feeble wave and took off to the left (where her vehicle was now facing) into the parking lot. I waited for her to clear, and for the next gap in traffic to pass, and I jetted across, too. She had continued into the mass of parked cars, hopefully to safely park, so I couldn't check to ensure her continued sanity.