cold driving

I dashed across the parking lot, puddles shining neath the street light.
Into my car I dove.
On with the lights, the windshield wipers, the heat, the fan, the radio.
As I backed out of my stall and headed for the exit a litany of accidents were being recited.
Falling snow can make home seem very far away.
Toiling along with the throng, I watched as slushy rain transformed into large wet flakes of snow that seemed to come from a spot directly in front of my windshield. Like a star burst, the flakes spread out and out and out.
I can remember staring into oncoming snow as a child and feeling as though I were weightless and flying through space. Of course this is not the sort of thing a tired driver should ponder.
I switched stations and adjusted the heat.
In the past, attempting to stave off sleepiness on the homeward commute, I have tuned in to stations I don't like and programs that annoy, to jar myself into wakefulness.
Sadly, I have come to enjoy my usual default choices and they have lost their abrasive value.
Ah well, the season of cold air is descending upon us. A cold driver is an alert driver. Break out the mini gloves.