Friday was rainy, icy, and flooding all at the same time. All day long, it rained. It rained and rained. The manboy, said 17-year-old Lliam, went to his sweetie pie's house for the afternoon. In his exuberance, Lliam must see Sweetie Pie (Katey) regularly, preferably daily. He realized it was raining, but in his inexperience he never thought about the fact that in the winter rain turns to ice on frozen streets. He never thought about the fact that the rain would begin to melt the snow into huge puddles along the side of the road.
These thoughts never crossed his mind. But he had a great afternoon and evening playing video games with Katey and her brother. His father and I got home as quickly as we could, realizing the seriousness of what the evening would bring. Around 7:30 we were both reminding Lliam that it was time to come home. In his defense, around 5 PM we asked him to stay where he was because it was already bad out and we wanted to be home before he tried to get home. But now it was 7:30 and we told him to be careful but get home right away.
The way from Katey's house to ours is only about a mile and a half. Unfortunately, Katey's street was a solid sheet of ice. Better still, it slopes downward toward the cul-de-sac and upward toward the main road. Instead of heading toward the main road, the inexperienced part of Lliam told him to go down the hill and head back up. Well, it wasn't ten minutes before I was getting frantic phone calls that he was stuck in a snow bank at the bottom of her street.
I was on the phone with Lliam, Steve was standing there venting about how this is exactly what he was trying to avoid, and I was asking Steve, "What do we do NOW?!" I really had no idea. Steve stomped around a bit, but finally said that we needed to go get him and try to get the car. He loaded the car with kitty litter, road salt, boards, an ice pick, and a shovel. I put on my boots and my parka. We climbed in the car.
The last thing I wanted was to be out in that weather. Ugh. The windshield wipers pushed away the steady rain, making it hard to see the ice on the road. Slowly and steadily, Steve made it to the main road which wasn't quite as bad. We headed slowly over to Katey's. The posted speed limit is 45 but thankfully no one was idiotic enough to be going any faster than 30. By the time we turned onto Katey's street, the rain had let up a little. We could see Lliam's car marooned at the bottom of the circle.
Steve headed down to the car and stopped in the middle of the circle. Fortunately, Lliam's car wasn't damaged. Then the real fun began. Steve knew he hadn't had any traction in the car, but it wasn't until he tried to step out of the car that he realized how bad it was. He couldn't stand up. He couldn't get any grip at all. He closed the door and said, "We gotta get out of here. If we can. I cannot get stuck down here." It was a few tense moments, but he was able to get back up the hill.
We parked at the top and called Lliam. He met us at the car. We decided to try to get down to the car on foot. We stomped through the snow to avoid the icy street.
I was following in Lliam's footsteps and Steve behind me. As we trudged through a foot and a half of snow, I thought to myself, "What am I doing? This is not me." I started talking out loud, "You know, I am not an Eskimo. I'm a city girl, and I like it that way. There's a reason I don't live in out in the boondocks, and this is it." Nobody paid any attention to me.
We got to the first driveway. Solid ice. Lliam scooted across in his boots. He said, "You can walk on it like this." Heck, no, I wasn't following. We stood there at a bit of a loss as to what to do next.
Next thing we know, another car has come down the cul-de-sac and is now stuck at the bottom, parallel with Lliam's car. "Uh-oh," I said, "I wonder if they hit our car." Lliam went down to investigate. No, they didn't. While he was there, he took the opportunity to help the girl in the car back up the circle to her house. He held her by the arm as she crossed the street, using the ice pick Steve had brought to help him navigate the street without falling.
He returned, proudly telling me how he had helped her and how he had advised her to walk in the snow when possible instead of in the street. Exuberance. That's what's fun about teenagers. He sees adventure where I see pain-in-the-butt.
Steve declared that the mission to rescue the car was an abort. We had rescued Lliam. We would get the car in the morning. We piled in the car and headed home. Lliam, the manboy on the verge of adulthood, sat quietly in the backseat of his dad's car. Now the exuberance in the manboy was far less obvious than the inexperience.
As we drove home with Steve and I in the front and Lliam safely in the back, I couldn't help but think that as much as Lliam may groan and roll his eyes over our worries, our rules, and our lectures, he still needs us. We're his foundation, his launching pad, and his rock in the stormy sea of adult life.
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