Slower Than a White Bronco

When I compile my bucket list of things to do before I die, it will include:

1. Find the meaning of life.

8. See the Arizona Cardinals win the Superbowl.

76. Visit Africa.

1,456,789,322. Get a colonoscopy.

1,456,789,323. Drive through Northern Texas through an ice storm again.

The vast majority of the drive through Northern Texas (at least for the route I took) looks like a dried up Kansas. It's completely flat and decorated by hues of yellow and brown, a monotony broken up only by the occasional patch of oil derricks dotting the landscape. Though, to be fair, I can't see much for the last two hours before stopping in Abilene.

A heavy fog and freezing rain make it nearly impossible to see anything not directly in front of me. This problem is compounded by the fact that ice has formed a thick shield over both of my side mirrors.

When I finally get to Abilene, I find it very difficult to see anything, so I rely on my GPS system to navigate me safely to the local Walmart. Big mistake.

It directs me to take the next left, which I do...directly into oncoming traffic.

Fortunately it is late at night, so the traffic is scarce and I am able to deftly maneuver my 3/4 ton van in an awkward y-turn, followed by an illegal but necessary left hand turn to safety.

Of course, right as I am congratulating myself for getting out of the dilemma alive, I spot a police car directly to my right. The next few minutes are spent glancing in my rear-view mirror in hopes that the police car isn't following me.

Even when I get to the Walmart and park, I don't feel safe from the law. It's not like my vehicle is particularly inconspicuous. After fifteen minutes pass and the cop car still doesn't show up, I breathe a sigh of relief at my good luck.

Though come to think of it, luck probably had nothing to do with it.

The cop probably couldn't see either.