Snow drift wins.
It’s really a shame that the snow plough had already been by before we got back to my truck in the morning. It was an impressive drift! A few hours earlier I shot through it no problem. It was a big drift, but soft and puffy. On the way home from pottery at 11:30pm the drift was even bigger. I paused for a few seconds, then taking my foot off the gas I thought, “I’m in a Suburban”. What I didn’t realize is that during that time the ripping wind had packed the drift into the kind of snow you build igloos out of. And I must admit that in the dark I underestimated the impressive size of the mound. Thankfully, I was within walking distance of home. Graeme and I both went back with shovels, but it didn’t take long to realize the futility of trying to shovel out a beached Suburban. In the morning it took the tow truck several attempts using a few different methods to finally get it out. I hope my kids can learn some lessons from my mistakes!
On the walk home that late, moonlit night Graeme quipped, “It’s quite impressive that you could beach a Suburban. It’s very [“Maiden Name”] of you.”
Now every trip to town I see my pile of snow that the plough truck couldn’t get to. It’s like a monument to my stupidity. I’m looking forward to spring. Or more snow to bring the plough back out.
Moral: Never run a snow bank unless you’ve tested the consistency. It can damage bumpers!