Driving on Ice
For my 16th birthday, my parents gave me three driving lessons, in times when formal driver’s ed had not yet been contemplated. It was just before Christmas in 1969 when the nice (brave!) man arrived at our house. After introductions, I hopped behind the wheel of his car and we set off. That day, it was pouring rain. The next, the roads were icy. On day three, there were six inches of new snow. All that to say: I became a good driver, fast. I had to.
Over the years, I have driven ambulances and fire trucks, and hauled lots of fully-packed horse trailers. I can go forward or backward, no problem. I have driven in wild conditions. On ice. Through deep snow. In high winds. With heavy traffic. Long distances, solo. Bring it on.
Lately, I have realized that driving has been sort of a life coach. That is, the many lessons of the road can and do often inform my approach to various situations that life throws at me. Driving on ice is one of the best teachers. Sometimes, it is not apparent that a road is icy until you are already skidding. This is why lesson #1 is always to be mindfully alert to my surroundings and roadway conditions. (Prevention is an obviously good lesson to learn!)
Recently, while listening to Elizabeth Gilbert read her wonderful book, Big Magic, she spoke of “realms of uncertain outcome.” Well, all of life is technically uncertain, but some situations are more uncertain than others. It never hurts to use caution when the wheels are turning, but especially so on icy days.
In that terrifying moment when a vehicle goes into a skid, the driver has to over-ride the more natural impulse to panic and over-react. When skidding, one must stay calm, make gentle and smooth adjustments, steer in the direction of the skid (even if it is toward the precipice). It is a time to breathe, zen-like, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Go easy. Recalibrate as needed. Create the best chance for success while awaiting the end, whatever it may be.
The same responses work well when being blindsided by a call from the doctor who said they’d send a note if everything was fine. When admitting to the demise of a great love affair. When saying final goodbyes to a loved one. Breathe. Go easy. Recalibrate. Create the best chance for success. Wait for the end.
Many people seem to fret endlessly over life’s “what if” questions. These can be torturous when allowed to have a voice. During a skid, there is no time or use for “what if.” You are already sliding toward whatever uncertain outcome will result. Similarly, news of a grim medical diagnosis does not offer a final answer, just the beginnings of an uncertain path. Love? Well, treasure love because it is always uncertain and, no matter its form, always ends one way or another. What is uncertain is the when and the how.
To me, a skid is a gift. I have learned that I have the skills to take on a skid. Done right, driving through a skid ends without incident and becomes a fading memory once the adrenaline stops hammer-punching the body. When it results in a crash, well, there are lessons there, too, often harder ones. Either way, a skid is an opportunity to shore up the foundations of life experience and carry on. I trust myself to face whatever challenges life lays down. There is strength in knowing that.
So, breathe.
Go easy.
Recalibrate.
Create the best chance for success.
Wait for the end.
And (may I add) keep your eyes on the road.
