the road taken

Last week I went out of town during the first light snow of the season. Before leaving, I checked the alternative routes, of which there were at least three. I chose the fastest, but also the least travelled.

On a previous trip, this journey took almost two hours. Going this time, it clocked in at 1 hour 38 minutes, with the bonus of pretty views and almost no other cars in sight.

Still. I should have noticed.

One road, called CR 52, climbed and climbed and, for most of its ten miles, was receiving a light blanket of snow. Elsewhere it was only rain, or no precipitation at all.

The next morning, ready to return home, the streets outside the inn were covered with a couple of inches of snow, and more falling. A postcard scene, and I didn't think twice. I could have chosen only state highways which, in this part of the world, are usually plowed and salted and safe. This would have added about 20 minutes to the trip.

But why not go the same way I came? It was so pretty! And fast, too.

All went well until CR 52. But I didn't think of turning back; I had come too far, I know how to drive in snow, and --- an adventure. And a car that tracked sure. The few other vehicles I met were either crawling, or pulled over to the side of the road.

When I reached the state highway about 30 minutes later, the road was clean and the sun was breaking through.

I checked the time when I arrived home: 1 hour 40 minutes.

A good choice, after all.

But next time, if it's snowing, I won't be on CR 52.

Candace