2 years ago, mama was 6 mos(?) or so preggars. It had been raining ALL day, and had just gotten dark. Temps started to drop. I checked Weather Channel and there was an "ICY" warning. I say "berkeley this. Honey, we're outta here."
She's got about a half-hour of work left. We argue. She wins. Bad call.
Our ride home is 40 miles. Normally takes about 40 minutes. We hop in the old rusty 87 civic and head south. We get half way home, and it's like someone hit a switch; the highway is a solid block of ice. There are cars EVERYWHERE...and I'm talkin' "The wreck happened 30 seconds ago." I ease off the throttle, keep the wheels straight, and slow the car from 50 to about 10mph, and, as an earlier poster suggested, put two wheels in the nails.
We go about 5 miles like this. It's still a berkeleying bloodbath; cars all over the berkeleying place. We get 5 miles north of the turn-off to get to our neighbor hood, two tractor trailers are wadded up, blocking both southbound lanes.
First, they have to move the trucks. Then, we literally wait HOURS for a salt truck to get there...headed north bound. I don't know how far north he went, but it was roughly another hour or so before he headed our way. Car is damned near running on fumes, and it's obviously a little berkeleying chilly outside.
We finally get rolling, hit our turnoff, and obviously, the trucks haven't hit the side-roads yet. It's about 1/4 mile till our next turn, and there's no parking and walking, as the street is lined on both sides with people who've already done that.
We get to the next turn, and I tell mama to hang on. "If we can get up this hill, I can get us the rest of the way there. berkeleying greasejob. I'm sex-crazed and retard strong as we crest the hill, and there's a dude on a 4 wheeler flashing his lights. I stop, and he informs me there's some berkeleying idiot parked in the middle of the road at the bottom of the hill. There's a ditch on either side of the road. It's my neighbor at the bottom.
I park in someone's yard, leave mama in the car, and walk down to the bottom of the hill. Tap on the window. Neighbor (elderly) rolls it down. I explain to him that if he doesn't move the car (late 90's corrolla) he's going to berkeleying die, or kill someone else, or both. He freaks and starts yelling about how he called the tow company 2 hours ago. I try to explain to him that he ain't GETTIN towed tonight, and offer to move the car for him. "NO! I ain't goin nowhere, and the car ain't movin. If I was in my TRUCK, I'd already be home!"
While this is going on, I have to back away from the car every 30 seconds or so, as another car, and another, and another make emergency manuevers trying to avoid his dumb ass. I finally say "berkeley IT." Walk back, get mama, and we begin the delicate walk home.
Sure, the grass is fine. But every time we have to cross a driveway, it's a 30 second affair, as the motherberkeleyer is solid ice. I busted my ass at least a dozen times. Fortunately mama (who is, again, 6 months pregnant) only fell 2 or 3 times, and not bad.
When all was said and done, our 40 mile ride took 6 1/2 hours. I could've driven to berkeleying Florida.
Moral of the story: I'M ALWAYS berkeleyING RIGHT, SO COMPLY!!!
