New Girl in Town: Snow Causes Misfortunes for Editor

My difficulties with Northern Virginia driving conditions continued this past week.

Driving in Thursday's snowstorm almost sent me packing and headed back to South Carolina for good.

The lyrics in the holiday song, "Let It Snow," are so true.  "Just as long as there's no where to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

The key phrase is "Just as long as there's no way to go."

What happens when there is somewhere to go and you're an inexperienced winter weather driver? Well, if you're like me, you narrowly escape getting your car stuck in the snow at a gas station and then you almost hit a concrete pillar on Interstate 95 because the salt from the road has polluted your windshield.

I should have known to stay in my house on Thursday. But it was the day I was supposed to leave for a long weekend with family and friends in South Carolina and North Carolina.

Like most people, I was insanely excited to see the snow. In my native Florence, SC, snowfall happens once a year, if that.

One inch of snow means no school. Heck, a half-inch of snow means no school and no work for most folks.

Once, when I was a freshman at the University of South Carolina in the state capital Columbia, the entire city shut down because the forecast called for snow and ice.

When I say shut down, I mean all state employees got off early the afternoon before the projected storm, USC classes were cancelled and all the bread was missing from the grocery stores.

Native northerners were baffled by the response to the winter weather.  Many said, "It's just snow!"

 On Thursday, as I stood on the balcony of my  Manassas Park apartment taking pictures and sending them to my people down south, I debated if I was going to try to make it home.

My dad and mom told me not to come.  A friend in Raleigh, NC, said the same, adding that he wanted to see me make it home in one piece.  His words were ominous--I almost didn't.

The trip started off badly.  I stopped at a gas station to fuel up for the six-hour journey and my car gets stuck before I can even make it to the pump.

I shifted to a lower gear, backed up and held my breath. Low and behold my little Accord spat and spun its way out of the snow.   As I'm pumping gas I'm thinking I need to own a sport-utility vehicle if I'm going to continue to live here. At that moment I see a Dodge Neon race into the parking lot and expertly negotiate the same snowdrift that almost had me calling a tow truck.

I then decide it's not the car, but the driver.  If that compact Neon can do it, my Honda can, too.

Soon I'm on I-95 South moving at a glacial pace toward Quantico.   What I think is dirty snow begins to collect on my windshield, making it hard to see.  What's worse is that my wipers aren't doing a very good job of removing it and the wiper fluid isn't coming out.

It gets so bad that I have to pull over and take a jacket that's in my car and wipe off my windshield.

That worked for all of two-tenths of a mile; so I stopped at a convenience store and used that liquid and wiper that every station has beside the gas pumps.

I get back on the interstate thinking everything will be OK, but a few minutes later my windshield is completely covered and I can't see a thing.  Not one thing.  The glare from oncoming traffic just complicated matters.

I'm in the far-left lane and panic sets in. It rises up my chest and into my throat as I try to figure out what I'm going to do.  I slow to a crawl, turn on my hazard lights and try not to scream.

I didn't know if I was going to drift too far to the left and crash into a overpass support column or drift too far to the right and into cars in the middle lane.

I was so frightened.  A driver of an 18-wheeler behind me lays on the horn as I try to switch lanes  and make my way to an exit.

To this day I don't know how I did it.

I pulled into my third gas station of the day and wept.  I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't turn around and go back to Manassas Park because I probably wouldn't make it.  I couldn't continue on to South Carolina because I probably wouldn't make it.

I felt so alone and I missed my parents and family more than ever.  All my life I've never been more than a few miles from someone who could come rescue me if I needed them.

Now, I'm in the middle of Virginia, an unfamiliar place, and I can't go forward or backwards, I thought.

I called my best friend Cameron, a native of Syracuse, NY, (also known as the 'deep freeze') because I needed advice on how I was going to navigate my way through the winter weather.

'Cameron will know what to do,' I said to myself.  She's now living in Rochester, NY, and had spent her entire life dealing with lake-effect snow.

"Cammie, there's this stuff on my windshield and it won't come off," I wailed into the phone.  "My wipers can't get it off and my fluid isn't coming out."

"Jamie! That's salt! From the roadway," she said, laughing. " You're out of wiper fluid and if it continues to snow there, you're going to use a lot.   Go to the store and buy some more, it's only like $2.  Just put that in your car and the salt will come right off."

At that moment I wasn't sure what to think. I mean, I KNEW there was salt and sand on the roadway, but somehow I didn't think it was the culprit of all my problems.

So I purchased windshield wiper fluid at my fourth convenience store of the day (The third convince store didn't have any).

I popped my hood, snatched the top off the windshield wiper fluid-keeper and discovered the thing is full.

I'm angry and confused.  If the thing is full of fluid why, oh why isn't it coming out?

I shut the hood and wipe the snow from around the wipers, thinking the fluffy stuff is preventing the fluid from spraying on to the windshield.  Then I try spraying the fluid again. Nothing.

I'm a little outside of Richmond by this point and I'm seriously thinking of driving to the international airport, parking my car and buying a plane ticket to Florence.

Frustrated is a gross understatement for how I was feeling.  My voice cracked as I called my dad and explained to him what was happening.  I could tell he was thinking of driving from South Carolina to come get me or thinking of someone nearby who could.   But he suggested I check into a hotel room for the night.

I told him that was out of the question. I wanted to come home.  My dad got our mechanic on three-way who told me to find an auto parts store and ask them what was the problem with my wiper fluid.

Fortunately, there was one nearby.  A nice young fellow checked my fluid and told me the verdict:  Most of it was frozen solid.

I was shocked.  "But this car has been running for hours! The heat from the engine should have thawed it!" I said.

"No miss, there's that cold air that's blowing through," he said.

The frozen fluid couldn't be drained and replaced, so I purchased a product to clean  the windshield and repel anything else from sticking to it.

That actually worked pretty well, and as I drove further South, there was less salt and sand on the roadway, much to my relief.

Several hours later, I made it home to my parents' house where I hugged my mom, my dad and my dog Brulee 

I went on to have a great weekend in Florence and later at the Omni Hotel in Charlotte where my friend Tomi and I attended a jazzed-themed gala with my sister. We had the time of our lives.

My wiper fluid eventually thawed but now it's frozen again.  I've got to make an appointment to figure out why it's doing that and have it replaced with some that's less likely to freeze.  I guess all of this comes with the territory of being the new girl in a town in Northern Virginia.