It was snowing this morning; snow followed by sleet, answered by a few more whisps of snow. I'll admit I was slow about venturing out to make my way across town to the lecture. While I claim no special expertise with wintertime driving, I at least have some experience. I wasn't all that confident about the Texans who might be joining me on the roads, and I had low expectations of the road crews. How many snow plows and salt spreaders could there possibly be in Fort Worth? But after awhile I was ready to risk it.
What I found was better than expected. For one thing, there was scarcely a car on the road. For another, I had crow to eat with regard to the road crew. Someone and something had happened along to clear a path. Nearing the campus, however, the road took a serious incline, met with a four-way stop at the top of the hill. Momentum plus a little sand carried me up the hill, but the intersection, itself, had been neglected. From the stop sign, tires spun, finding little purchase. It was slow and lurching progress at the top of the hill.
Automakers like to brag about how fast their products can get from 0 to 60, but my guess is that none of them ever start their stopwatches while parked on ice. Reality here is less a race than a test of patient finesse.
I'm coming to the sense that most beginnings of any consequence have much in common with that moment in this morning's commute: sluggish inertia; spinning wheels on a sheet of ice trying to get up to speed; ephemeral traction; prodigious activity and a poverty of progress. The choice is either wiser, tempered, more strategic pacing, or panicky, stressed aggravation. Having some interest in new beginnings, perhaps the drive this morning was providentially instructive. There is an important difference between RPM and MPH -- between the tachometer and speedometer.
Note to self: beware the jackrabbit starts. Chances are you will get nowhere fast.
1 comment:
Welcome back, Tim! Jane
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