It was my first job out of college, over 40 years ago, and frankly, it was terrible. A low-end retail outlet, long out of business now. The job came with long hours, no overtime, no supervision, and no training. But it was a job, and I desperately needed one. I worked as the area manager for the gifts and electronics department. We did brisk business selling the latest electronic kitchen gadgets. Did I check the weather before heading in that day? I’m sure I did, but the store was open, and I had to work.
The store was dead. We sold a few shovels, flashlights, and batteries, but no one with any sense was out and about. The snow came with a ferocity I haven’t seen since. The store manager, unwilling to close, finally relented when the blizzard was in full force.
For some reason, I’d taken my mother’s Chevy Nova to work that day. Back then, front-wheel drive wasn’t standard, and cars were far less capable in snow compared to my current all-wheel-drive RAV4. The Nova’s weight over the front wheels didn’t help much either.
Near the airport on my way home, the open terrain allowed strong winds to create massive drifts. It was there the Nova got stuck and couldn’t go any further. I knew staying with the car would mean freezing to death. So, I abandoned it and set off on foot.
Alfred Wainwright famously said, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.” Unfortunately, I didn’t own what I’d call a good Minnesota winter coat back then. That probably explains my lifelong obsession with coats. Today, I own a proper arctic parka, but I only wear it on the coldest days.
Picture this: a scene straight out of a Jack London novel—blinding snow, fierce winds, and a lone figure trudging through a whiteout. I hadn’t gone far when I stumbled upon three business executives stuck in a Volvo. They let me in, and, as they later told me, I looked like I was a goner.
I stayed with them until the fire department rescued us. That night, I slept on the floor of the fire station. By morning, I managed to hitch a ride on a fuel truck back to my neighborhood. Later, my buddies and I dug the Nova out once the streets were cleared.
For a long time, I beat myself up for letting that manager put me in such a dangerous situation. How could I risk my life for a job like that? Over time, though, I’ve come to accept that we humans are an imperfect lot.
The next time you hear about people getting stranded in a snowstorm, don’t immediately think, “What were they thinking?” Sometimes, it’s just some poor slob like me, trying to make ends meet.
I recently found an article that brought it all back:
“In 1978, a two-day coastal blizzard brought 26 inches of snow and hurricane-force winds to the area, stretching as far as New England and Vermont’s Green Mountains. The storm caused severe damage: beach houses collapsed, stores shut down, and several people died. At the time, weather forecasting was still developing, and while forecasters predicted 1–2 feet of snow, many people commuted to work despite the warnings.”
To this day, I keep an eye on the weather, and if I think it’s too risky, I simply didn’t go to work. Life’s too short to risk it all for a paycheck. Oh, and no one appreciates a hot cup of Joe and a cozy fire like me.
Be safe, stay warm.
