Black Ice

When my father-in-law Frank taught Amy and her siblings to drive, he took them to the cemetery to practice their driving. He claimed it was the safest place to teach a teenager to drive because everyone was already dead.

When each of our kids turned 15 and obtained their driving permits, I took them driving in the snow. Having grown up in Minnesota, I learned very early that driving on ice and snow takes finesse and practice. I would take them to an empty parking lot nearby and tell them to drive fast in a circle. I would then mix in various commands to stop, turn or reverse directions without slowing down. As they slid all over the parking lot, I gave them tutorials on how to accomplish each task without losing control of the car. Although they weren’t perfect, they learned quickly how to navigate the car under icy conditions.

One winter, Carson attended a baseball camp at Central Michigan University in Mount Pleasant, Michigan. The campus is just over a six-hour drive from our home in Sussex, Wisconsin. By the time the camp ended that late Saturday afternoon, it was dark and the forecast called for a major blizzard through Chicago and into Wisconsin. About halfway home, we got a flat tire in Michigan City, Indiana just over three hours from home. Because of the lateness of the hour, we were unable to obtain a new tire and had to proceed home using the spare donut tire. Unfortunately, that also meant we would not be able to use the all-wheel drive (AWD) on our vehicle.

It began to snow heavily as we made our way through Chicago. By the time we reached the Wisconsin border, the freeway was nothing more a single lane of wheel ruts through the unplowed freeway. Morgan had been assigned to the front seat to keep me company while Carson slept in the back seat. Amy remained quiet as the conditions worsened and we limped home on our donut tire.

As we finally approached home, Carson awoke in the back seat and was startled by the ferocity of the blizzard. He had conveniently slept through the ride up I-94 from Chicago to Milwaukee. When we arrived home, Morgan simply turned to me and said, “I never realized what a great driver you are! That was a white knuckler all the way.”

As I recalled this moment, it struck me that life is a lot like that drive home. Sometimes our lives accumulate too much of a good thing (black ice) and before you know it, life is careening out of control.

Whenever life’s challenges confront our lives, it is best to slow down, surround ourselves with those we love, and take life moment by moment. We never know when our lives will hit that black ice. We only know it is inevitable. Often, those times feel like they will never end and the pain of enduring them can cause us to lose hope.

Whether it is the loss of loved ones, health challenges, financial distress or any of the trial’s life can send our way, we must remember that if we slow down, we can make it home safely. It is still possible to emerge from the storm stronger and more appreciative of the good times. Even if we must navigate life’s black ice with a spare donut tire.