I pushed and pushed and coordinated to get our winter tires switched off of both vehicles. After all, we haven’t had a snow storm in weeks — months! — and I wanted to preserve the tread and studs and roads etc. etc. etc.
One hour after our summer tires were installed today, the snow began to fall. And fall. And fall. It was glorious, beautiful, magical, right up until the moment my husband slid the family Suburban on its summer tires down a mountain road and into a guardrail.
Nobody was injured and nothing was broken, aside from a crack in a bumper and my ego, but dang it if I don’t still have loads still to learn about patience and waiting and letting things come as they may.
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