The Square Life

I still remember the first time I had to drive in the snow. I was in the Target parking lot in Orem. When I walked into Target it was just unreasonably cold outside. However, when I walked out of Target there was a curious white substance floating menacingly from the sky. I knew I had a serious problem.
“What is this?” I shouted. “Who sent this crap!’
Note. I was raised in San Diego. And while BYU is an exceptional school, I moved to Provo for one reason. Brigham’s University was the only university my sweet parents would help pay for. (I am aware admitting I’m from San Diego and my parents helped pay for college puts me in a category that might make you gag, but I am fully conscious of this, and isn’t that half the problem?) I was not eagerly awaiting Utah’s world famous snow.
“But what about skiing! Snowboarding! Sledding!” The Utahan’s would offer. “How is it Christmas without snow?” They’d challenge.
 Christmas for me meant palm trees and heated spas, sweet cheeks. “White Christmas” was just a fun movie to watch so my sister and I could sing along to the “Sister” song. Nothing more. And the skiing? Anytime my family tried to get me to participate in skiing, I stuffed a backpack full of crafts, grabbed some allowance money for hot chocolate, and asked if I could instead be a “Lodge Bunny” with my bag o’ fun. That’s how I ski.
So, back to me, not excited for the snow, stuck in my Volvo station wagon my first year in Utah in the Target parking lot. I was scared stiff. So naturally, I did what any 19-year-old girl would do when faced with a challenge. I started crying, and then I called my mom.
“Mom! It’s snowing! I don’t know how to drive in the snow!”
“You’ll be okay sweetie. Just drive slow.”
“But they didn’t cover this in driver’s ed! What if I crash?”
“Well that’s why you’re driving that nice safe Volvo. Remember, it’s moose proof.”
“You think I’m going to hit a moose?”
“No, but if you do, you’ll be safe.”
And with this advice, I cleared my eyes and attempted to drive in the snow. Truth be told, the snow wasn’t even really sticking to the ground. It was probably more like the equivalent of driving in the rain. But because I have a hard time keeping my emotions to myself, I still needed to share my feelings with a half a dozen people on my drive back to the dorms.
“Tara! I’m driving in the snow!”
“Andrea! I’m driving, and guess what? It’s snowing!”
“Kirk! Seriously, how do you drive in the snow?”
A good start would have been hanging up my phone and looking at the road. But as a friend of mine once noted, my car engine might get confused and not start if my cell phone was not in use. I did, however, make it safely back home.
Since my first experience, I think I have become far less of a threat to other drivers when it snows, despite my California plates. I am still, however, terrified of runaway moose.