Vancouver in Less Snow

After ten days so snowed under I couldn't walk farther than a few blocks, I was finally able to drive my car. It was immediately clear that if I were a horse and on the mend from a broken leg, I'd be one of those, who driven crazy by confinement, would rear up and shatter the limb again.

I drove. Boy, did I drive. I drove like an Amazon, like a Kozak. To a mall three miles away when there was one just a mile up the road. To claim 5000 Shoppers Points that came in the mail. Whoo hoo. That was an excuse. I drove five miles more to another drugstore. For what, I can't remember. I saw friends it had been impossible to meet up with over Christmas. Next, I drove ten miles to visit my favorite neighbourhood.

I logged over forty miles joyriding. Gas was down to 76.9, and I was thrilled. I tried to visit Pacific Spirit Park, but gave up when the snow in the middle of the road caused an alarming scraping sound on my undercarriage and the car began sliding sideways. "Please, please, please," I prayed, "I knew that was asking too much."

In the midst of this minor panic, it started to snow again. With my spinal fractures, I'd only been able to carry home a few apples or a litre of milk at a time for two weeks. And that with difficulty on the icy, uphill sidewalks. I shopped feverishly at Safeway, glancing out the store windows to monitor the snowfall. I figured I had half an hour before my parking spot would be blocked again.

It's now sixteen days since Vancouver's first snowfall, and the lanes and side streets are uncleared. Hundreds of cars on my pleasure drive were still trapped behind banks of snow. Winter Olympics 2010, here we come.

But it's the drivers who really get to me. In snow, Vancouverites are anarchistic. It's as if traffic law has been suspended. Today I drove from Broadway to 41st (on a dry road) behind a Hyundai who first cut closely in front of me, then signaled. He kept up a blistering 40 km/hr and straddled both lanes so I couldn't pass. Then, I tried to pull into a parking lot. Another driver tried to pull out. Inexplicably, the SUV in front of me halted across the entrance. I honked. The other guy honked. Pedestrians banged on her hood and windshield; she was blocking them, too. The road was clear, her engine humming. She. Just. Stopped. That's what I mean. Anarchistic.

I'll be staying home a lot more than usual until things get closer to normal. But my cookbook just hit 99,000 words, I've written the bibliography and edited everything so far. Vancouver snow isn't the worst thing that could happen. Happy New Year, everyone.

Copyright 2009 Reisa Stone