The story I keep telling myself is that winter doesn’t really bother me because warm or cold, lots of snow or a little, I still can’t drive my toy until the last of the salt is off the roads. Salt sticks around until April or May regardless. It could be sunny and all the snow melted. But one crack of the sky on a cold day and the municipalities save us from inevitability by salting the slick spots. Damn you horrible drivers! Freedom will be on hold until a shower turned massage setting beats the white powder into the ditches.
But wait you say. How come you were out and about over the weekend? I see the picture right there. Did you… no… go out on the-
Yes! Ok. I was out! I live off of dirt roads. Those cursed dirt roads I never wanted to live off of are a slice of pie, a piece of purity, a cleansing of col… Let’s just say they can be nice. Frozen at 10˚F they kick up very little dirt, are never salted and gave me 30 minutes of travel between 35-55 mph. Just enough to clear the S4’s throat and my head. I was close to busting the gerbil dirt cage for the salt lick road but the Porsche force is strong with this one. The car ended up back home before a sacrifice was made. A sacrifice I keep telling myself doesn’t bother me any more than our Michigan winters.