Well, our cul-de-sac.  We live on a steep slope, 17%, and to get to our place one must climb that slope.  When Deb came back from Vancouver after seven hours of driving to go 230 miles, her last step was to make it up that cul-de-sac.  She did it on her third try.  In a front wheel drive Prius with studs, slinging ice and snow everywhere.

How it works is one approaches the leftward (upward) sloped cul-de-sac from the street, gaining good speed, then throws the wheel left, sliding all over the place.  If you do it just right with enough accumulated momentum, you have enough impetus to reach our driveway.  I’m an okay snow driver, but not as good as Deb.

That is why, after five tries, I didn’t get up the cul-de-sac even though the snow is now slush.  Went to the store, somewhat excited as one rarely gets to throw fishtail turns in our modern day, like Tommy Vercetti in Grand Theft Auto:  Vice City.  Vroooom!  Halfway up, a joke.  Back down, back up the street.  Vroooooom!  All over the damn place.  Didn’t help that someone had to park at the bottom, and I had to avoid his or her car at all costs.  Turn around and drive back, start farther.  Vrooooooom!  If you had stood next to the car, you would have been completely plastered in slush.  Two more tries.  Significant cursing.  On the last, finally utter a vile oath and pull into Mrs. Anderson’s driveway, which is an easy target.  Mrs. Anderson doesn’t care if we park there, any time, however long.  She’s nice like that.

Yeah, I failed, but it was great fun having license and purpose to make like GTA.  It is fun to have to do things that at any other time, people would stand and gape and eventually call the police.

We all need a little adventure, and freelance writers don’t get a lot, as you can see.