I was at the hospital in Somerset, Kentucky without my insulin shot kit, syringes and future discharge clothing for my Sweetheart. And, another winter storm was bearing down on the area. That would be a terrible winter blizzard type snow storm racing towards me with an undetermined accumulation of wet, heavy snow possible.
Calculating the chances of driving close to eighty miles round trip to retrieve the necessary medical device, and assorted sundries before the storm arrived . . . well . . . I decided to tempt fate and give it an educated guess chance of success. My odds were fair, but going without my insulin was not a good thing at all.
Twelve miles down the road I ran headlong into a blizzard . . .
The drive through the blizzard became demanding with each mile travelled. Dense blowing snow and a disappearing roadway made my fingers and unmentionables painfully tighten. I was almost to the point of loudly screaming Uncle. I also felt an enormous demand, probably justified, being placed on my Old Guy driving skills. And, at the same time my mind ran unrelentingly through the endless possibilities and consequences of my newfound foolishness.
It was no wonder I was debating my mental reasoning.
The snow began falling heavier and my right eye started itching fiercely. It was an allergy thing and vigorous scratching and digging at the offender caused my glasses to be displaced. So, half blind . . . I crept down the parkway at thirty-five miles per hour weaving willie-nilly from lane to the other. I was fortunate not to dislodge an eyelash with my questionable self-medicating efforts. That would have been a painful nightmare.
I was also fortunate no one was behind or around me while I involuntarily explored all aspects of the whitened roadway.Despite the blowing snow highlighted by the headlights, I could visualize in my car sliding off the darkened roadway. I would be found frozen solid in the front seat.
Oh my, I would be found frozen to death next to a plastic bag of women’s clothing with a pocket full of syringes.
I could imagine what the police report would say much less the local newspaper. I would be described as a local nine-fingered drug addled transvestite bird photographer who died, possibly tragically, but quite embarrassingly, during the great snow storm of aught fifteen.
Russell County, KY. (JM) – The body of what appears to be a local nine-fingered, drug addled, transvestite, bird photographer was found lodged in a semi-massive snowbank Thursday off the Cumberland Parkway.
Indications relayed by a competent source reported that the car was trying to out race the blizzard to Somerset despite the dire snowstorm warnings. The unusual night storm proved to be quite heavy at times. Three additional inches of snow and freezing rain fell on the eight inches of snow still on the ground from Saturday’s storm.
Jamestown resident John Moss was found frozen, his hands still on the steering wheel, in the front seat of his small car twelve miles East of Russell Springs. Initial reports say that the body was found with a jacket pocket full of hypodermic syringes.
Quite suspiciously, a large bag of Women’s clothing was found in the passenger seat beside him. In the rear seat were blankets, pillows and a small bag of facial makeup with appropriate and quite complementary lipstick colors.
The State Trooper investigating the incident reported that though Moss was not wearing items from the large plastic bag, his striped socks and public demeanour were highly suspect.
An embarrassed, and un-named anonymous family member said that funeral arrangements for Mr. Moss had not been made as of this reporting time. An un-named source close to the family said the bereaved members of the family held a private meeting, and they were now waiting for a “fee free” day at the city dump to appear. The funeral is scheduled to be family only when the occasion presents itself.
I drove on … horrified at what could possibly happen should an unfortunate “incident” happen to me. Additional scenarios passed across my eyes. None were to my advantage. Several times, I shivered as possible shame, disgrace, and public humiliation settled over me like a cold wet blanket.
At the exit to Somerset, I slowed down and prepared to turn left at the light. I had made it. Doom, gloom and ridicule were swept aside to die lonely in the cold darkness. I was joyful much like a mule eating briars. Yes, I had made it.
At the light, I gently turned the steering wheel. Halfway through the turn the rear end of the car swept around to the front . . . around and around again.
I spun in tight circles three or four times before getting the car under control. Fortunately, my acrobatics were performed in the center of the deserted snow covered parkway. The jubilation and unbridled euphoria of getting to town safely had lulled me into a careless moment. I had not decreased my speed enough in the turn and possible disaster had nearly jumped up and bit me on the rear-end.
I crept the rest of the way to the hospital making two additional turns without incident.
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