Jan 21, 2022 4 min read

As the snow piled up last weekend, I went fishing.

Not in a lake, but on neighborhood websites, looking for someone who might come and dig me out. I got lots of nibbles, text messages asking where I lived and what kind of job it was, but after the half-foot of snow arrived, only one worker was on the hook.

He was about 17.

“How much do you want to pay,” he asked.

“You’re the one with the shovel,” I said. “You tell me.”

He said $80, which seemed way high. But then I looked at the long sidewalk and noted the cold temperature. I conjured a humanitarian scenario in which this young man was shoveling his way into medical school, after which he would join Doctors Without Borders. Either that or he is saving up for a new video game.

Whatever, he was the one who showed up ready to work.

“OK, $80,” I said, cringing a bit, and off he went. A few minutes later I looked out to find him tossing the snow into the street. We corrected that, and 20 minutes later he texted a question.

“Looks like the sidewalk turns into grass,” he said. “Do you want me to keep shoveling that?” He’d veered off course and was carving a path through the woods.

When he was done, I was going to ask him to shovel the driveway, a sloped and gravel thing that will be the reason I sell this place and move. But it was getting dark, and I can’t imagine what all his extra work would cost me.

And so I had a clear sidewalk and a snowy driveway. Not that I had anywhere to go, but I wondered if my Subaru would make it all the way up. Up was no problem.

Down was something else. Who knew there was a slight dip at the bottom and then a slight rise? There I sat, spinning away like an electric toothbrush. Surely the tires would cut through the snow and get to the gravel, where traction would take over.

But I was wrong.

I put it in reverse to make another run at it, and slid off into the grass. I stepped out of the car into an abyss and declared myself deeply, spectacularly stuck. Out in the woods, three deer stared with pity.

Type “car stuck in snow” into Youtube and you get a couple dozen hits. The first suggested using zip ties around the tires to add grip, which didn’t work, even on the video. The second one suggested getting two burly men to push, and for a moment I thought about calling the shoveling man back. The third suggested putting traction material in front of the tires.

Seeing that the entire driveway is traction material, I dug through the snow and got shovels full of gravel and tossed it in front of the tires. One toss was so vigorous I propelled myself in the other direction and did a face plant. Undeterred by this painful embarrassment, I dusted myself off and got in the car.

My Subaru lurched forward, and off we went.

The car is now safely parked in the garage, where it may remain until June or I buy a plow, whichever comes first.

But I got the car unstuck, all by myself – a deeply satisfying accomplishment. Since then, I’ve been looking around the house at all the little projects that need doing. Today, a stuck car. Tomorrow, fix the furnace?

I’d be happy if it never snows again. But when it does, I’ll be ready. My shoveler guy said to give him a call.