What better place to be

Driving home from a concert on a rural route partly covered in ice and snow, what better place to be than behind a snow plow? We toodled along behind one for about fifteen miles, going well under thirty, and watched the salt spray out and the blade come down when needed. Sparks everywhere, and safety.

When the plow turned off, I flashed the headlights twice to say thank you. I hope that means thank you.

And then, not far ahead, a second plow. We followed that one for about six miles until it pulled over to make a U-turn. This time I waved.

Elaine just reminded me about the second plow. I’m too tired to remember more than one plow per post.

[About the concert: Stravinsky’s Pulcinella Suite FTW!]