Winter Storm Juno 4….My Neighbor 0
Every time a major winter storm hits my area, my neighbor becomes my favorite form of entertainment….I sit by a window with a hot cup of coffee, in a nice warm sweater and watch as his garage door opens and he emerges, dressed like Nanook of the North….only in all things North Face and not walrus….with his industrial sized snowblower at the ready, tuned and itching to blaze a trail.
It’s always funny….at least I think so. Not just because the only part of him I can see is the determined fire in his eyes as he cuts through the snow, but because there is always a solitary fist pump in celebration of his first pass….typically followed by a harsh gust of wind, which I like to think is Mother Nature telling him, “Not so fast badass.”
It’s also funny, because he seems to be compelled to head out in the heart of every storm, when there are still many inches projected to fall and the wind is whipping hard enough to ocassionally cost him his footing, as if this preemptive strike will somehow encourage the storm to deposit it’s additional flakes in the large drift piles he’s created and not in his newly cleared driveway.
Of course, the storm never complies and inevitably, by the time he’s through, the storm has refilled his path with fresh flakes, leaving him standing in the confines of his garage, icicles dangling from his eyebrows as he gazes out at his wasted efforts and shaking his head in defeat as if this was not to be expected. I assume this approach is necessary for proper snowblower effectiveness, but I prefer my method of effectiveness….hiring someone else to do it.
I’ve seen him lose a glove and spend twenty minutes shaking his fist and digging one-handed through piles of snow trying to locate it….I’ve seen his snowblower stall out or jam up, forcing him to drag it back into his garage and I’ve seen it throw a giant rock that ricocheted off his house and shot back at him with the speed of a bullet, which had to have made him crap his pants.
My favorite moments though are when the town plow trucks come barreling up the road into our small cul-de-sac, pushing a growing mountain of snow up our hill.
My neighbor, alerted by the rumbling of the plow, abandons his work and dives into the giant mountain of snow piled high by previous passes and begins to frantically dig for the reflective stakes he installed in the early part of the winter season.
These stakes are meant to alert the plow driver as to where the road ends and the lawn begins….but the plow driver, who has probably been plowing all night, barely eaten and isn’t “Running on Dunkin”….(because this storm and the Apocalypse are the only two reasons Dunkin Donuts would ever close)….couldn’t care less about preserving my neighbors lawn. So, in addition to another giant load of snow, chunks of earth and a sprinkler head are also deposited on the heap. At this, my neighbor bows his head and begins to dig himself back to his snow blower.
Keeping fighting the good fight neighbor….it’s always fun for me.