That's me, raising my hands up in the air. I surrender. Waving the white flag. Admitting a glaring flaw. I'm a winter chicken! It started in driver's ed when I had to drive on a snow and ice covered bridge across the Mississippi River. I was the novice of the group. I took the phrase "white-knuckled grip" to a whole new dimension! By the time I crossed the bridge, all the other student drivers were hunkered down on the floors of the car, preferring not to look. That only imprinted the fear more deeply into the "fraidy-cat" center of my brain.
Then, through the years, I got stuck in winter storms. Me and cars and storms just do not get along. Flashback city! One time I fishtailed across a cloverleaf ramp, and witnessed other drivers actually smacking the rails. I made it across safely, but scarred for life (or should I say "scared for life"?).
Compounding the issue is that my lungs actually shut down with cold air. No, not a panic attack. It happens even when I'm enjoying myself (obviously, not at the wheel!). And then there's the Raynaud's Syndrome. Fingers become white, blue, then red. Patriotic.
That brings me to today's winter day. We selected Brenham, TX to avoid winter precipitation and freezing temperatures. Today, we're looking at around 3 inches of sleet and snow, coming in just a few hours. I'm due to go out for lunch with a friend. Like a chicken I texted her to see if she'll pick me up. Good excuse: hubby has to go out and needs my vehicle since he owns a rag-top convertible with rear-wheel drive. But the truth is, I'm "bawk bawk bawk chicken!'
