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January 12, 2013

Chronicle of a death (mine) avoided

Photo copy

When I went to sleep last night it was with the knowledge that at this very moment — 7:53 a.m. — I'd be on Interstate 81 heading north to Shepherdstown, West Virginia, about half-way to a planned 9:30 or thereabouts arrival, in plenty of time for the 10 a.m. Natural Running Clinic put on every Saturday morning by Two Rivers Treads.


I've been wanting to attend for at least a year but for one reason or ten others — races, weather, NFL playoffs, mood, you name it — had just never found the right day until finally, what with today's Ravens-Broncos tilt not scheduled to start till 4:30 p.m., conditions seemed just right for my long-anticipated visit.

I figured I'd spend till noon in West Virginia, then have a leisurely drive home — it's about a 2.5 hour trip according to my GPS but for me, dawdling and all like I do and preferring to tuck into the slow lane behind a giant oil tanker for the bulk of the journey, and stopping at McDonalds for a McRib [yes, they're back! — but as always not for long so I gotta strike while the metaphorical grill iron is hot] more likely an hour longer — and arrive around 3:30 p.m., in plenty of time to get my game face on and all and give Gray Cat the love she'd been missing for some nine hours.

That playoff game should be intense, what?

I mean, with the Ravens coming in Denver at altitude in the cold (20° predicted) and Manning wearing his magic glove, with his history of poor performance in chilly weather: that's got all the elements of an epic tilt in the making.

But I digress.

My alarm went off at 6 a.m. and I rolled out of bed all excited, ready to rock and roll and get on the road by 6:30 a.m.

But when I looked outside I couldn't see anything.


I came downstairs and opened up the front door and whoa! — "It's froggy out there," as my daughter used to say.

Pea soup, intense fog.

I looked at the weather report on my computer and saw this:

Screen Shot 2013-01-12 at 6.35.43 AM

It took me about three zeptoseconds to bag the trip.

Not only because I could barely see the house across the street, 300 feet away (below)


but also when I looked down Magnolia Drive toward the intersection (there's only one in my little subdivision of 32 houses) I couldn't begin to make it out — not even the bright light above it.

That did not bode well for a trip on Interstate 64 west over Afton Mountain, which as a rule is treacherous because of early morning fog even in perfect weather.

On a day like today, I'm betting the Interstate was closed.

I'll never know because I decided to die another day.

Up top, the view out my window a minute ago.

January 12, 2013 at 08:01 AM | Permalink


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Well, you called the Ravens Broncos upset. That was pretty impressive.

Posted by: Jeff | Jan 12, 2013 9:00:56 PM

This just in: the CDC & NIH have determined that Dillon Burroughs lives in a cognitive state about twice as foggy as Magnolia Drive this morning.

Posted by: 6.02*10^23 | Jan 12, 2013 11:11:06 AM

The reports of your death are greatly exaggerated.

Posted by: 6.02*10^23 | Jan 12, 2013 10:49:07 AM

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