Wannaskan Almanac for Thor’s Day, April 5, 2018

   I’ve been driving a lot as of late, piling up the miles and hours behind the wheel of our 1998 Subaru wagon. On Tuesday evening, we got back from Red Cliff, Wisconsin, a trip of seven hours from Palmville, that began in St. Cloud after Easter weekend. 
   We started northeast out of St. Cloud on Monday, driving MN-23 toward I-35 at Hinckley, wanting to get ahead of a massive snow system marching in from the Dakotas. It was sweeping through southern Minnesota and Iowa, and eastward into Wisconsin. We left the darkening skies behind us and were east of Superior, Wisconsin about one thirty, just as St. Cloud started getting snow. Weather reports indicated, the system would push northeast toward Duluth and northwestern Wisconsin around five o’clock, and we planned to be in our motel room by then.
   Our car was lightly dusted with snow, Tuesday morning. The Cities were digging themselves out, awaiting Round Two later in the day. We were heading home that morning to Palmville, 347 miles west northwest, most of it on U.S. Highway 2 until Bagley, Minnesota where we turn north on Highway 92 to Gully, and across a low desolate land of poplar, pine, spruce, red willow, and oak, rivers, creeks, wilderness, vast tabletop-flat farm fields and floating wetlands. A place, our almost-eight year old grandson calls, 
“The middle of nowhere.”
   The road conditions report for Highway 2 to Duluth was in “Good Winter Driving Condition.” Grand Rapids, Minnesota was eighteen degrees with snow. Some roads could be icy. Skies were dark north of Red Cliff with a light wind off the lake. As we descended the winding Highway 13, along Lake Superior, the atmosphere changed from dark to light to dark again, interspersed with intermittent flakes of snow and light sprinkles of sunshine.
   I don’t drive as fast as I used to, preferring to just maintain the speed limit or five mph higher, unless we’re in heavy traffic, where I just go with the flow. The occasional crush of commuter traffic doesn’t bother me because I don’t have to deal with it on a daily basis, having served my bumper-to-bumper time many years ago. Now, I’ve got all the patience in the world. Not to say that stupid drivers don’t test my resolve at times, it’s just that I know it’s temporary. All I have to do is get from A to B as safely as I can for me and my passengers. The latter is paramount.
   Speeds on Highway 2 average 65 mph. Other drivers go faster, of course, and a few find out that the Minnesota Highway Patrol lies in wait here and there, although there are many more times you never see one. 
   There are lots of semis hauling freight and logging truck traffic in these stretches. The road careens over bumps and dips, baring worn ruts that puddle water during rains, with wide shallow, often water-filled, ditches on either side through miles of jackpine and blackspruce forests and birch and poplar trees. 
   Splats of blood, hair, and grease stain the road where hapless deer have been hit by cars and destroyed by trucks. A driver has to always watch for wildlife crossing the road, day and night. Deer are unpredictable, as they sometime cross--then recross-- the road in seconds, two or three at a time. Some burst across in front of you, others blast from a ditch or hiding spot and run into the side of your vehicle without any warning.
   The other day I was talking to a granddaughter who had dealt with a number of I.D.s (Idiot Drivers) on her trip north to St. Cloud from her home near Rochester. She said she was going 80 and some guy going 70 wouldn’t let her pass, so they vied for lane position and finally the other individual passed a truck and moved into the slower traffic lane, etc, etc.
   Because I had helped her learn to drive before she was licensed, I told her to remember who was with her in the car and that she should drive safely for that reason alone. Who cares if some jerk wants to try and irritate you in traffic, especially at speeds of 80 mph? Your responsibility, above all, is your three year old son in the backseat. If anything should happen to him, how do you justify your impatience? You know better than that. The driver is responsible for the passenger’s safety all the time.
   I can hear certain individuals say I have little room to talk, as I’ve been in a few fender benders myself, one of which ended with my female passenger being hospitalized for a week with a brain concussion. (See last week’s Thor’s Day entry, its two images speak volumes.) A drunk driver in a ‘68 Firebird failed to yield, and came over the centerline into my lane, and struck my ‘70 VW beetle in a glancing head-on collision.
   Although it was deemed the other driver’s fault, I had responsibility in it too, to my passenger. I should’ve been more cautious. The setting sun was directly in my eyes when I looked left and I didn’t see the other car until it was ‘right there’. I saw its headlights too late. I was too impatient. A few seconds of hesitation on my part would’ve avoided the accident and her near loss of life.
I was knocked momentarily unconscious, but woke up when someone in the crowd of onlookers, beat on the drivers door to get my attention. I had minimal injuries, was treated and released the same night.
   Whenever I say goodbye to my daughter, I always tell her to watch out for the other guy. Those other drivers who may be texting or daydreaming or falling asleep or drunk or doped out of their minds. Isn’t it unbelievable that we place so much trust in oncoming traffic, vehicles driven by people who can be in such states of oblivion? Vehicles traveling at high speeds going opposite directions and meeting us within a sphere of ten feet on pot-hole strewn ‘trails’ through city and country, with ridges and crevasses that threaten vehicular damage and control? Ever stop to think that the money cities spend on new stadiums could be better spent on streets and roadways? Or that new car manufacturers should come out with armored personnel carriers for the common man and woman?
   The road is pretty damn long by the time we drive into Palmville Township, a driver just wants to get home and be done with it. The grandkids have exhausted themselves asking “How much longer? How many more hours? Why do you live here?” again and again, but this is the time to really be aware of deer. I am not joking. This time of year, a person can see fifty or sixty deer out in Palmville fields, and almost that many in road ditches, feeding on grass that they haven’t seen since early October, no matter it doesn’t have any nutritional value.
   Home has never looked so good and we made it home safely.
Miigwech!!!!!!!!!