(no subject)
Feb. 12th, 2007 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickIt's supposed to snow some tomorrow afternoon/evening. I don't mind this, particularly, save that it will open the grandma can o' worms.
Grandma (who is 94 and doesn't drive out the road anymore and doesn't, in fact, drive at all anymore) worries every time that there is enough snow to hide the grass that I might have to plow the road. Like this is some kind of huge deal. It's a bit of a pain, but the truck has nifty spiffy hydraulic controls. There is no strength requirement to move the controls, or at least not more of one than your average ten year old could muster. The truck has power steering and power brakes. Driving it is only slightly more complicated than driving my ordinary, everyday truck for work purposes. And I've been plowing the road for some years now, without incident.
However, if there is enough snow to cover the tips of the grass in the yard, Grandma will fret about the road. Is it plowed? She will ask me this even though I am patently not stuck in the valley due to being standing in front of her. Did Bill help you with that? She will ask this despite the fact that Bill is over sixty and lives in freaking Hopewell and does not drive a 4WD vehicle and thus would not particularly be ABLE to get to the snowplow without trudging his elderly ass down a two-mile snowcovered road. Somehow, the, "No, grandma, I did it myself." answer is less satisfactory for her than the having-a-man-do-it answer. (I don't get this and it pisses me off a lot. It's not like the road is any less plowed when I do it.) Is it okay? Fuck, grandma, I'm not stuck at home. Yes, it's okay. Just don't worry about it. <-- but this, this is not sufficient for her. She worries. Like what the hell is going to happen? If I run the fucking truck off the road, I trudge my sorry ass back down the road and get the bulldozer and a big chain and tow the damn truck out. I wear a coat, hat, boots, and gloves when plowing. I'm not there in my tank top and short shorts, for heaven's sake. I dress for the weather and for the possibility of having to walk home because I know that I can fuck up. I just don't know why she's so worried. I'm not ever going more than about ten miles an hour when plowing ANYWAY because it's a dirt road and if I go too fast, I beat the ever-loving shit out of the machinery. At that speed, I could plow (heh) straight into a tree and live to tell the tale. Almost nobody INSIDE A VEHICLE dies in a 10-mph crash.
But, y'know, it's supposed to snow tomorrow night and into Wednesday morning. Watch this space for announcements of my imminent Death-While-Plowing.
Grandma (who is 94 and doesn't drive out the road anymore and doesn't, in fact, drive at all anymore) worries every time that there is enough snow to hide the grass that I might have to plow the road. Like this is some kind of huge deal. It's a bit of a pain, but the truck has nifty spiffy hydraulic controls. There is no strength requirement to move the controls, or at least not more of one than your average ten year old could muster. The truck has power steering and power brakes. Driving it is only slightly more complicated than driving my ordinary, everyday truck for work purposes. And I've been plowing the road for some years now, without incident.
However, if there is enough snow to cover the tips of the grass in the yard, Grandma will fret about the road. Is it plowed? She will ask me this even though I am patently not stuck in the valley due to being standing in front of her. Did Bill help you with that? She will ask this despite the fact that Bill is over sixty and lives in freaking Hopewell and does not drive a 4WD vehicle and thus would not particularly be ABLE to get to the snowplow without trudging his elderly ass down a two-mile snowcovered road. Somehow, the, "No, grandma, I did it myself." answer is less satisfactory for her than the having-a-man-do-it answer. (I don't get this and it pisses me off a lot. It's not like the road is any less plowed when I do it.) Is it okay? Fuck, grandma, I'm not stuck at home. Yes, it's okay. Just don't worry about it. <-- but this, this is not sufficient for her. She worries. Like what the hell is going to happen? If I run the fucking truck off the road, I trudge my sorry ass back down the road and get the bulldozer and a big chain and tow the damn truck out. I wear a coat, hat, boots, and gloves when plowing. I'm not there in my tank top and short shorts, for heaven's sake. I dress for the weather and for the possibility of having to walk home because I know that I can fuck up. I just don't know why she's so worried. I'm not ever going more than about ten miles an hour when plowing ANYWAY because it's a dirt road and if I go too fast, I beat the ever-loving shit out of the machinery. At that speed, I could plow (heh) straight into a tree and live to tell the tale. Almost nobody INSIDE A VEHICLE dies in a 10-mph crash.
But, y'know, it's supposed to snow tomorrow night and into Wednesday morning. Watch this space for announcements of my imminent Death-While-Plowing.
