So, the other day this happened. It reminded me of... Sapphire Sled and I: The Adventure Continues! More on that later!
The other day I left my girlfriend's house in Monroe a grip later than I wanted. I pressed the gas pedal down a little harder in a few areas than I usually do. Then I was fast approaching the exit I needed for northbound Highway 9 to start my work shift.
As I left westbound 522 I knew it was tight right-handed cloverleaf. The caution sign rates it as 30 mph. From formal and informal racing experience, I knew the braking zone would be where I would slow down the most. I applied the brakes, but to my surprise there was a wicked bump at the beginning of the downhill right-hander. This upset the inertia of the car. It kicks out the rearend to a 35 degree to the left.
No need to panic, just steer into the skid. Still coming around. Damn, I thought. I goose the gas, crank the steering wheel to the right, and yank the emergency brake to complete a 360 degree spin instead.
The drive wheels (front wheels) spun on the wet pavement, and the e-brake totally killed all my speed. The #SapphireSled ends this lazy, slow, dumb spin by coming to rest on the inside, grassy, hilly with mud area of this turn.
Now I'm facing the wrong way and 180 degrees from when I started. The engine dies. I curse. I quickly throw on the hazard lights. I try to start the car; won't turn over. I'm now Marty McFly in Back to the Future (1985). I spy a Prius coming my way. I attempt to start the Sapphire Sled all the while coaxing her to fire up based on the promise of a spa day of car detailing. The engine turns over, I put her in gear, jump on the gas. I spin it around while honking my horn, to create attention to the Prius driver. She sees me, backs off, I drop in, and we continue.
NOT how I wanted my commute to end. After I calmed down in the parking lot, I said thanks to Mom, God, and muscle memory. Reminded me of another adventure I've been on with the Sapphire Sled.
I usually reserve this reposting until the anniversary date but here goes nothing...
It was Monday, November 27th 2006. The following is my experience of a sudden ice storm that paralyzed the Seattle area for one night... and my almost 20 hour journey from Issaquah to Bothell with the 26 miles that separate them.
At 4:30 pm, I left work to start my commute home. Since it had rained/snowed earlier I knew my traffic would be delayed. I just didn't realize what the Gods of Lunacy had in store for me...
It's 6:30 pm, which is two hours into my usual 1.5 hour commute, I was near 160th St SW on I-405 northbound. I sat there for 15 minutes with no movement. I made the fateful call to bail off the freeway and brave the surface streets to home. Now to fully appreciate the situation, you must know that accessing Bothell from the Woodinville is like connecting via Hong Kong on a Seattle-Los Angeles flight. It was dark, cold and starting to freeze the water on the roadway. I started to make my way east up the 160th hill. With tires spinning, rear end at a 45 degree angle and 20,000 miles less on my tires, I submitted.
I turned to left to go down the hill street. The nose of the car came over the crest and started sliding. Sheet of ice. I tried to stop. I manage to plow into a small snow bank on the right with the tires. *whew* Screw this. I manage to turn this tank around on a inclined skating rink. Don't ask me how I did it.
New plan. Go back to the damn freeway.
It's 7:34 pm! As I'm 6th car in line, I might just make it. Hold da door, I mutter. DOT & WSP closed the ramp - too dangerous, they say. AWESOME, I grumble sarcastically! Now they are turning around the cars to get them off the ramp.
LOVELY. Never mind. New route. 160th to 100th to Lake City way to Hwy 527 to home! I arrived to Lake City Way easy enough but stuck again.
By 8:05 pm, my wife at the time calls me to ask me where I am. Valid question, honestly. I report I'm mere car lengths to joining the pile of cars turning left onto Hwy 527. She wants me re-route again.
She asks, "Do you see the Hwy 523 sign to head into Woodinville?"
I quip, "Yep," almost 4 hours in I'm damn near delirious.
She barks, "Go there. Circumvent this mess and hop on 405. You should be north enough."
I comply by motoring along only to discover WSP closed off both directions of the 405 ramps at the interchange. I curse loudly in my car!
NO choice. Go on to Woodinville. I'll cut over to Hwy 527 to jump on the Beardslee Blvd entrance. YES, I shout into the car.
By 9:33 pm, my wife calls again to inform me while I'm waiting in line on Beardslee Boulevard that northbound I-405 has been closed. OMG! *insert a Denis Leary tirade here* Luckily I'm literally at the driveway of a Residence Inn. They should have rooms... So I check. The night auditor barks, "NO vacancy. Don't try Springhill Suites either, full."
I grumble, "You're full of..." I dredge back in the car. Fine, to the backroads!! I'll heroically navigate the narrow, dark, icy roads to 228th and get to Hwy 527 and to home. 5 hours in, now this is a personal damn vendetta. I'm getting home tonight!
9:45 pm is on my car radio. My friend, Sidney Gruenich nee Nettleton, and my wife are genuinely concerned about my safety. In hindsight, they should have been concerned about my sanity.
The reports of closed highways is longer than the ones open. I get out of my car to survey the situation. Charlene calls again to inform me that I have a room at the Willows Lodge in Woodinville for tonight. I can walk this, I tell her... Abandoned the car.
She almost pleads with me to return to the car. Cooler heads prevail; all Charlene.
By 10:15 pm, I've managed to claw my way BACK to Woodinville (haven't I seen this hill before?). By the grace of God, my Mom's heavenly help, Charlene's sweet voice on the end of my mobile (thank Christ I bought a car charger - no battery left) guiding me in, and some mad skills behind the wheel I get to Hwy 202. I sigh, "Almost there."
It's 10:45 pm, I arrive at Willows Lodge. The staff members of Colton and Antoniette have my room keys ready. I call my wife to say I'm safe and not sound, but safe and off the road. I grumble and mention that I need food.
They smile, and say, "No problem, here's several Chicken Margarita sandwiches that were gonna be trashed. Oh, and a FREE bottle of 2004 Cab-Sauvignon."
Perfect. With these items cradled in my arms, I drag myself to the room. Quick note: At the end of Die Hard I & II, they play "Let It Snow" for the credits.
I bust open the door. Time on the clock? 11:01 pm, 6.5 hours after I started. The air is filled with... (yes, you guessed) "Oh, the weather outside is frightful" I find it funny in that Isn't-It-Ironic type of way.
The next morning, it's 10:10 am. Now I'm on the verge of heading out, and getting HOME!! H-O-M-E, should be me. I blaze outta there with a wing and a prayer. I'm hungry. The roads are great. Bare and wet. I pop through Woodinville (again) and make it to 522. 522 to 405. 405 to exit 26 / Hwy 527. Ah, yes. The Golden Arches saves me yet again. I buy lunch for my wife and I.
11:00 am is on my car radio. Inspiration hits. Chains. I'm buying some damn chains. Les Schwab has oodles of them! Once I stop in, I buy their last set left for my tires P205 / 55R16.
By 11:50 am, I'm still struggling to test fit my chains. Are you kidding me? Ron, the tech, politely and generously shows me how to put them on. Apparently the last step wasn't necessary and I could have easily been home by now.
I roll into my driveway at 12:26 pm with the chains on the car still. I am triumphant. Alive, not injuried, with car (no damage) after 20 hours but home at last. Home, sweet, home. Charlene smiles from the top of the stairs. "You're home!" Yes. Yes, indeed.
The other day I left my girlfriend's house in Monroe a grip later than I wanted. I pressed the gas pedal down a little harder in a few areas than I usually do. Then I was fast approaching the exit I needed for northbound Highway 9 to start my work shift.As I left westbound 522 I knew it was tight right-handed cloverleaf. The caution sign rates it as 30 mph. From formal and informal racing experience, I knew the braking zone would be where I would slow down the most. I applied the brakes, but to my surprise there was a wicked bump at the beginning of the downhill right-hander. This upset the inertia of the car. It kicks out the rearend to a 35 degree to the left.
No need to panic, just steer into the skid. Still coming around. Damn, I thought. I goose the gas, crank the steering wheel to the right, and yank the emergency brake to complete a 360 degree spin instead.
The drive wheels (front wheels) spun on the wet pavement, and the e-brake totally killed all my speed. The #SapphireSled ends this lazy, slow, dumb spin by coming to rest on the inside, grassy, hilly with mud area of this turn.
Now I'm facing the wrong way and 180 degrees from when I started. The engine dies. I curse. I quickly throw on the hazard lights. I try to start the car; won't turn over. I'm now Marty McFly in Back to the Future (1985). I spy a Prius coming my way. I attempt to start the Sapphire Sled all the while coaxing her to fire up based on the promise of a spa day of car detailing. The engine turns over, I put her in gear, jump on the gas. I spin it around while honking my horn, to create attention to the Prius driver. She sees me, backs off, I drop in, and we continue.
NOT how I wanted my commute to end. After I calmed down in the parking lot, I said thanks to Mom, God, and muscle memory. Reminded me of another adventure I've been on with the Sapphire Sled.
I usually reserve this reposting until the anniversary date but here goes nothing...
It was Monday, November 27th 2006. The following is my experience of a sudden ice storm that paralyzed the Seattle area for one night... and my almost 20 hour journey from Issaquah to Bothell with the 26 miles that separate them.
At 4:30 pm, I left work to start my commute home. Since it had rained/snowed earlier I knew my traffic would be delayed. I just didn't realize what the Gods of Lunacy had in store for me...
It's 6:30 pm, which is two hours into my usual 1.5 hour commute, I was near 160th St SW on I-405 northbound. I sat there for 15 minutes with no movement. I made the fateful call to bail off the freeway and brave the surface streets to home. Now to fully appreciate the situation, you must know that accessing Bothell from the Woodinville is like connecting via Hong Kong on a Seattle-Los Angeles flight. It was dark, cold and starting to freeze the water on the roadway. I started to make my way east up the 160th hill. With tires spinning, rear end at a 45 degree angle and 20,000 miles less on my tires, I submitted.
I turned to left to go down the hill street. The nose of the car came over the crest and started sliding. Sheet of ice. I tried to stop. I manage to plow into a small snow bank on the right with the tires. *whew* Screw this. I manage to turn this tank around on a inclined skating rink. Don't ask me how I did it.
New plan. Go back to the damn freeway.
It's 7:34 pm! As I'm 6th car in line, I might just make it. Hold da door, I mutter. DOT & WSP closed the ramp - too dangerous, they say. AWESOME, I grumble sarcastically! Now they are turning around the cars to get them off the ramp.
LOVELY. Never mind. New route. 160th to 100th to Lake City way to Hwy 527 to home! I arrived to Lake City Way easy enough but stuck again.
By 8:05 pm, my wife at the time calls me to ask me where I am. Valid question, honestly. I report I'm mere car lengths to joining the pile of cars turning left onto Hwy 527. She wants me re-route again.
She asks, "Do you see the Hwy 523 sign to head into Woodinville?"
I quip, "Yep," almost 4 hours in I'm damn near delirious.
She barks, "Go there. Circumvent this mess and hop on 405. You should be north enough."
I comply by motoring along only to discover WSP closed off both directions of the 405 ramps at the interchange. I curse loudly in my car!
NO choice. Go on to Woodinville. I'll cut over to Hwy 527 to jump on the Beardslee Blvd entrance. YES, I shout into the car.
By 9:33 pm, my wife calls again to inform me while I'm waiting in line on Beardslee Boulevard that northbound I-405 has been closed. OMG! *insert a Denis Leary tirade here* Luckily I'm literally at the driveway of a Residence Inn. They should have rooms... So I check. The night auditor barks, "NO vacancy. Don't try Springhill Suites either, full."
I grumble, "You're full of..." I dredge back in the car. Fine, to the backroads!! I'll heroically navigate the narrow, dark, icy roads to 228th and get to Hwy 527 and to home. 5 hours in, now this is a personal damn vendetta. I'm getting home tonight!
9:45 pm is on my car radio. My friend, Sidney Gruenich nee Nettleton, and my wife are genuinely concerned about my safety. In hindsight, they should have been concerned about my sanity.
"I'm on the threshold of hell. I'm beyond tired, hungry and frustrated."
The reports of closed highways is longer than the ones open. I get out of my car to survey the situation. Charlene calls again to inform me that I have a room at the Willows Lodge in Woodinville for tonight. I can walk this, I tell her... Abandoned the car.
She almost pleads with me to return to the car. Cooler heads prevail; all Charlene.
By 10:15 pm, I've managed to claw my way BACK to Woodinville (haven't I seen this hill before?). By the grace of God, my Mom's heavenly help, Charlene's sweet voice on the end of my mobile (thank Christ I bought a car charger - no battery left) guiding me in, and some mad skills behind the wheel I get to Hwy 202. I sigh, "Almost there."
It's 10:45 pm, I arrive at Willows Lodge. The staff members of Colton and Antoniette have my room keys ready. I call my wife to say I'm safe and not sound, but safe and off the road. I grumble and mention that I need food.
They smile, and say, "No problem, here's several Chicken Margarita sandwiches that were gonna be trashed. Oh, and a FREE bottle of 2004 Cab-Sauvignon."
Perfect. With these items cradled in my arms, I drag myself to the room. Quick note: At the end of Die Hard I & II, they play "Let It Snow" for the credits.
I bust open the door. Time on the clock? 11:01 pm, 6.5 hours after I started. The air is filled with... (yes, you guessed) "Oh, the weather outside is frightful" I find it funny in that Isn't-It-Ironic type of way.
The next morning, it's 10:10 am. Now I'm on the verge of heading out, and getting HOME!! H-O-M-E, should be me. I blaze outta there with a wing and a prayer. I'm hungry. The roads are great. Bare and wet. I pop through Woodinville (again) and make it to 522. 522 to 405. 405 to exit 26 / Hwy 527. Ah, yes. The Golden Arches saves me yet again. I buy lunch for my wife and I.
11:00 am is on my car radio. Inspiration hits. Chains. I'm buying some damn chains. Les Schwab has oodles of them! Once I stop in, I buy their last set left for my tires P205 / 55R16.
By 11:50 am, I'm still struggling to test fit my chains. Are you kidding me? Ron, the tech, politely and generously shows me how to put them on. Apparently the last step wasn't necessary and I could have easily been home by now.
I roll into my driveway at 12:26 pm with the chains on the car still. I am triumphant. Alive, not injuried, with car (no damage) after 20 hours but home at last. Home, sweet, home. Charlene smiles from the top of the stairs. "You're home!" Yes. Yes, indeed.
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