It always amazes me that people who live and drive in snowy latitudes have such short memories. From one season to the next, the ability to slow down, brake gently and leave enough room between vehicles seems to elude drivers.

There are times I must go out in the worst of conditions, and while I prepare for the worst, I hope for the best. Last week a trip to Buffalo was just such a time.

The weather report called for snow — and lots of it, so I prepared accordingly. I packed two warm blankets, plenty of bottles of water, some healthy snacks — OK, maybe not so healthy, but at least with energy in mind — my guaranteed to 20 below Mucks, a heavy parka, etc. etc. You get the picture; and I set out with a full tank of gas for Buffalo.

By the time I got to around Dunkirk, it started snowing. By the time I reached Angola, the road was barely visible and traffic was moving at 15 mph. The faint of heart exited at the travel plaza to wait out the storm. Those of us more daring, or foolish, continued on.

Traffic came to a standstill shortly thereafter. Twenty minutes went by and we started to move again; for about 50 feet. Another full stop, this time for an hour. Then we moved a hundred yards or so down the Interstate.

This time we stopped for two and a half hours. At first everyone’s engines were running, headlights on, waiting for the next opportunity to move ahead. Slowly the big rigs turned off their lights. Every so often I got out of the car and brushed the heavily falling snow off the windshield, headlights and back window, sure we’d be moving soon. At one point I got out of my car and headed toward the semi-truck parked ahead of me. As I approached the door of the cab, I thought to myself, “Hope he doesn’t think I’m a lot lizard.” (Lot lizard — a prostitute who works the truck stops.)

I gave a sharp rap or two on his door and the window rolled down. After the formalities of hi, how are you, I asked if he knew what the problem was. Since most trucks are equipped with CB radios, they usually have the scoop on what’s happening ahead. A semi-tractor jackknifed just before the toll booth he told me. A few more pleasantries and I headed back to my car, but first I walked to the car behind me to make sure the occupant there was OK. Fine, she said, but concerned because she only had a half tank of fuel.

By this time all headlights were out, most car and truck engines turned off. I sat in the growing dark, watching the snow grow deeper and deeper around the truck tires ahead of me, wondering if, when the time came, I could even drive my car through the deep snow. A moment of panic hit me. But only a moment. I was prepared for an overnight stay on the Thruway. I had food and water, a good oldies station on the radio and warm clothes. And Gov. Andrew  Cuomo had promised there would be no more 27-hour strandings on the New York Thruway.

In time I turned off the radio and just watched the snow fall. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was awe inspiring. Mother Nature covered the earth in a fresh blanket of white. Of all the natural disasters that can occur, a snowstorm is the most beautiful.

Later, the sound of engines broke the silence. Headlights shattered the peaceful scene, and we started to move. As it turned out, I was only a mile from the toll booth where the accident was still being cleaned up. With practically no snow on the ground from the toll booth on, I made it to Buffalo quite easily. It only took six hours to make the one hour and ten minute trip. But it was a beautiful six hours.

It is good for the soul to be stranded, alone, sometimes. Just be like a Boy Scout — be prepared.

Robyn Near is a Ripley resident. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com