Crash, crash, boom, boom

As Jeff and I's pact to not tell his parents lasted all of two days, I can now publically discuss our first (and God-willing last) winter accident of the season last week. While it was raining last Tuesday down in the city, we crossed that imaginary northern territories line somewhere in Harriman and by the time we were almost home Tuesday night, all roads leading to our house were covered with a fine, powdery snow that had yet to be salted or scrapped. As we were just harassing the overtly, neurotic cautiousness of Jeff's in-absenta mother who'd prefer we just stay home as to drive in anything less than a 80-degree sunny day, we hit that inevitable patch of slickness that sent us first fish-tailing then ultimately into a spin off the road, slamming us into what seemed like a very old, very huge, heavy tree but which turned out to be nothing more then an out of the way scrub sapling. Unfortunately, it still caved in the passenger-side door and back panel of our Explorer. Thankfully, neither of us were hurt (mostly because we went off into the ditch and woods on the right-hand side rather than to the left through on-coming traffic and over the very long, deep ravine beside the river) and I think it warrants mentioning as we were fish-tailing and spinning, my thoughts didn't turn to all the things I hadn't done yet nor mimicking Max's EXACT thoughts about getting killed before seeing Return of the King, bur rather a calm inquisitiveness and curiousness about what was going to happen next. I'd like to think this how I'm going to approach whatever end may be in store for me rather than some desperate, whimpering squeal of a little girl. Regardless, since both of us are fine the point is moot. So our truck is out of commission for a while getting repaired and we have a rental truck that doesn't have XM satellite radio in it but it is going to alleviate the 3000 miles we would have put on our vehicles this month so it's a small trade-off for the next month, I suppose.