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Discover Mid-America — March 2007
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Snowy road trip
by Bruce Rodgers, Editor/Publisher
As it is, I have a maddening, less-than-brilliant routine of leaving for a road trip late in the afternoon. I rationalize it by telling myself that “there’s less traffic,” therefore, I’ll make better time.
While there may be some truth to that, the reality is it’s likely more dangerous driving at night, particularly on roads one may not be familiar with, and especially if the weather is bad. But still, it’s my habit so why break it for a jaunt down to Bartlesville, OK to tour the Price Tower Arts Center?
True to form, I left the office around 4 pm and headed south. By the time I got to 169 Highway in Olathe, KS to start the “real” drive south, it’s was snowing and I was in rush hour traffic. Dumb.
I stayed in 4-wheel drive and kept it around 45 mph. Maybe it will clear off as I head further south I told myself. Not much of weather junkie — another less-than-brilliant tendency when you travel by road a lot — I really didn’t have much of a clue as to what the weather was suppose to be like in southeast Kansas and northern Oklahoma. More dumbness.
As I kept driving, nothing much improved. That dreaded snow/sleet mixture kept coming down and I kept the pickup at 45 or less. It didn’t help that 169 turns into a 2-lane highway south of Paola and that semis use the road to haul to Tulsa. A few hours into the trip, I shed my macho view and called my friend Terri.
“Check the weather channel,” I asked, “and call me back.”
A few minutes later she called back and said I might be heading into a heavy band of snow. “Really?” I answered, staring out my windshield. The sleet was gone and my truck was chasing fluffy white spots into the darkness.
By the time I reached Iola, it was really coming down. I pulled into a convenience store, got gas and knocked the ice away from my headlights. I needed to decide if I wanted to push on or find a motel. Maybe a burger and a root beer would help the decision-making process.
That done I decided to go another 20 miles to Chanute then call it a night. Nothing improved road-wise. The only good thing was that I was about the only dumbbell on the road.
I got off the first exit for Chanute and then discovered the town was about five miles away. It was still snowing, the roads were lousy, it was getting late and I didn’t know where I was going or have any idea where a motel was.
Finally, I spotted a woman sweeping the snow away from the front door of a liquor store. “Point me to a motel,” I begged.
“About a half-mile down the road,” she said with a crooked smile.
“Thanks,” I answered. I was through being dumb.
Bruce Rodgers can be contacted at publisher@discoverypub.com.
> Editor’s Notebook Archive — past columns
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