Page 35 of Released from the Sin Bin

Shit, shit, shit.

The roaming sucked the life out of my phone in a matter of seconds.

It’s ok. I just have to stay on this road.

It will be ok.

I will be ok.

I’m on a mountain with some light snow coming down. It’s not so bad.

Only, the more I drive the worse it gets. Snow and wind whirl around outside causing me to slow down until I can’t see anything but white.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I attempt to pull over on the side, hoping I’m not in the middle of the road, but I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to be driving in this.

Except me.

What was I thinking?

I have to be close. I’ve been driving forever, and … oh god. I’m almost out of gas. Under normal conditions I could’ve gotten up and down with no issues. I’ve done this drive several times on less than half a tank. But that was also on clear sunny days when I didn’t have the defroster on full blast and I’m not driving at a snail’s pace afraid I’m going to miss a curve and head straight into a tree.

I check through every window to get my surroundings while I’m stopped.

I should be close. The snow isn’t sticking as bad as it was, but the wind is making it worse. As soon as the wind slows down, I’ll be able to keep going.

“Come on, let up just a little bit,” I scream at the wind pelting against my window. “Fuck it.”

I put the car back in drive, creeping along with the two feet I can see in front of me. It looks like the road curves ahead and I attempt to follow it, only for my tires to scrape against the bank of snow and brush.

Shit. I shriek through my clenched teeth, and stop again, afraid I’ll end up driving off the road and into a tree or off a cliff.

It seems waiting it out is the better option. As long as I have heat, I can wait it out. But then I remember a story I heard my first semester. A man got stuck on the mountain. His car couldn’t get through the snow so he sat and waited in the car. The snow was so heavy, and the exhaust wasn’t getting out. They didn’t find him for days.

I shudder at the thought and open the window a crack.

I’m being irrational. The snow isn’t heavy enough to cover my car. There’s barely any on the car. Most of it is getting whipped around into the trees.

My gas light beeps again with a frightening reminder of how screwed I am.

Five minutes.

I’ll stay for five minutes and then try again.

Ten minutes pass and it’s not getting any better.

I keep using the windshield wipers to keep the glass clear, but it’s building up on the sides. The wiper fluid has frozen, and it’s of no use. Nothing will work.

There’s no way I’ll make it. Not unless I conserve gas some way. I turn the car off and put my window back up to keep some of the heat in.

This was such a bad idea.

Pulling on my hat and gloves, I tuck my legs into my coat to keep warm.

I’m going to be ok.

I will survive this.

Tears cloud my eyes and I let them fall with my head on my knees.

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