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When I was in college we had an ice storm here in Portland that closed a lot of the city, including the school. (For those of you in So'Cal, picture every surface - the ground, cars, tree branches, power lines - literally encased in 1-3 inches of ice.) It was a Friday, and since there was no power on campus I decided I'd just spend the weekend at home. It was just a four-hour drive up the Columbia River Gorge, right? It then took almost an hour to break my car out of its ice-cocoon.
Of course the weather moves from Portland east into the gorge. I encountered black ice the first half of the trip. I spun out a number of times, each time avoiding ending up in a ditch on the median, although once I did find myself staring at the oncoming headlights of a semi. After passing The Dalles, the worst is generally over. This time, however, I was dealing with an incredibly thick fog. I actually couldn't see the side of the road through the fog, even if it hadn't been freezing on my windshield as I drove. At one point I was reduced to driving very slowly, my door open, following the line painted down the middle of the highway. THAT'S how I missed my exit. I did realize my mistake fairly quickly and backed up on the shoulder.
My usual four-hour trip took almost nine hours that night. It was made even more nerve-wracking by the realization that I had told no one in Portland that I was leaving, and no one at home knew I was coming.
If anything had happened, I wouldn't have been found until the spring thaw!
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