See That White Stuff? It's Called Snow -- You Had Best Remember How To Drive In It

Every winter I get a large charge out of native Wisconsin drivers who can't seem to understand how to drive in snow until they've flipped their four wheel drive wonders into the median. Last time I drove to the People's Republic of Minnesota it hadn't snowed yet and we counted deer carcasses. We came up with 26 before Hudson.

This time, after that first blast of winter, it was car - casses that had replaced the deer. Get a grip! If the right lane of Highway 94 is showing pavement because the flow of traffic has blown it clean, stay in that lane! See that left lane that's all snowy? That's for two kinds of drivers: idiots and those in Peterbilts.

Let them have it. And then enjoy the spectacle. Just try not to be in their vicinity too long while they are in the process of "making up time" because they may just dipsy doodle right into you.

Semis are uniquely a pain in the ass because they fly by and kick up a mini-white out that leaves you snow blind for about 5 seconds that feels like 5 minutes, causing you to grip the steering wheel so hard that it takes a crow bar to get your fingers loose when you arrive at your destination.

The worst driving in snow story I have? My younger brother Anson, having some time off, said he would help me drive to Deadwood, South Dakota, to play a Casino Christmas party.

We did very well, despite the fact that it was snowing, until we reached the Missouri River basin at Chamberlain. We went down the hill, crossed the river, and came up the hill. When we reached level ground, the world ahead of me disappeared.

It is an incredible phenomenon that a guy like me, from hill country, does not experience. I literally could not see my wind shield wipers! Creeping along at two miles an hour, I had Anson roll down the pasenger side window to see if he could ascertain the side of the road. Occasionally he would say "I can't see anything."

We crept along for what seemed like hours, knowing full well that there is always an immediate exit when you cross a river. Frightening thoughts crossed my mind. Did I already miss the exit? Am I going to have to drive, consequently, another 20 miles in this? Am I going so slow that I am going to be rear-ended by a semi? If I stop here, will we die?

Suddenly an excited shout of joy from Anson! "THERE'S THE EXIT SIGN!" and then "I SEE TAIL LIGHTS!"

I crept up close to the vehicle ahead to maintain visual contact. I got close enough to see the words: "Stay back 100 feet". it was a snow plow! And I don't think so Mr. Snowplow! I am hugging yer ass!

He turned left so I turned left. He went back onto the freeway entrance going east. So did I. we finally got down the hill, across the river and checked into a motel.

Found out later that snowplows had to blast through underpasses that were totally plugged with snow.

I didn't make it to Deadwood.

Driving back to Wisconsin after the roads had been cleared, I recalled working a gig at the Holiday of Moorhead, Minnesota, over Thanksgving. Not making a lot of money, I was not going to spend the big bucks on the Holiday Inn Thanksgiving Buffet, but rather, walk some 200 yards out the back door to a mom-and-pop'ish truck stop cafe for my turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy.

A blizzard kicked in that day about 6 in the morning. I stepped out the back door and had my first experience with "white out". The truck stop had vanished.

I ate at the Holiday Inn.

I also remember my mother telling of her days as a girl on the plains near Buelah, North Dakota, when the only way you could find your way back to the barn was by keeping hold of the fence line. That's scary shit!

Oops! S'cuse me a minute whilst I go move my car out of the office parking lot. Our snow plow man is here.

We have now spent $100 on snow removal in less than a week.

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I went into Eau Claire looking for my copy of the latest issue of Sports Illustrated that was supposed to be on the shelves today. But, of course, "We don't have it, but we can get it for you".

I did find a copy of "Packer Report" that has a "suitable for framing" shot of Brett on the cover. I hadn't seen this mag in quite a while. Obviously. Ray Nitschke was instrumental in first publishing it and it came out in newprint quality paper. Now it is like Newsweek --all shiney stock paper.

Geat cover! Headline: SIMPLY THE BEST - Brett Favre Is Better Than All The Rest.

Amen.

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