The Odyssey of 114

School is commencing to start, and this Sunday morning, in the middle of the gridiron feast known as the NFL playoffs, is a day to reflect. While I have endured losing a lap top and a relationship over the past month, it does not describe the horrors of my first driving experience on ice. As I continue to record my adventures in the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles as well as New Mexico, let me provide a snippet of the last hours of the road trip. Waking up to snow on Christmas in Lubbock was a true miracle because I've "been dreaming of a Whiiittte Christmaaas." Yet, when I traveled east to visit my friend in nearby Post, I found out the side effects of snow: slush and the magical world of ice.

(Beginning of the Odyssey) After streaming Loop 289 at a crisp 17 miles per hour, I got onto US 82 and Texas 114 where the pavement got better. Other than passing through a couple stints of dust (take it from there Mr. Woody Guthrie) I reached the destination where I enjoyed ham, a warm atmosphere and John Wayne movies. It was time to head back, however, and the roads appeared decent. The normal trek from Lubbock to Denton is five hours, so I figured I would be home around early evening. The drive along 114 and 82 was smooth until I reached Benjamin when remnants of snow began to affect the road. At this point, I began to slow down, but the conditions were decent. After caressing 114 for another 30 miles, conditions began to deteriorate. As I trucked on, snow had blanketed the ranches to the north and south. As I approached Seymour, formerly known as Oregon City, I begged to find a motel. I never thought I would ask for a corporate chain, but I was that scared. After passing through town, I thought about going north onto US 277 and 183, yet I continued on. At which point the road began to reek of danger: no passing cars, slippery road conditions and a driver who was beginning to make Casper look tan. Through the next few towns I passed, I hoped and wished for a hotel of some kind. I was not sure I would make it to the next town let along get back to Denton. Minutes passed by and a few automobiles with bright beams trying to add to this Alfred Hitchcock episode headed my way. I look to the shoulder, but there is no white line just snow. After a half hour US 114 met up with US 281 outside Jacksboro. I am getting closer. For most of the drive every time lights loomed closer, I thought a place of salvation was there to meet me. It was not meant to be. In most cases they were homes, sand and gravel operations or feed lots. 8:30 comes and I find Jacksboro. Moments later, I arrived at the Butterfield Inn. It was not a chain motel, but I did not care, I needed to get a room, nurse a Coke Zero, watch television and nurse myself to sleep. Climbing up the parking lot on an icy slope was like asking for pain medicine and getting a hammer to the head, it was not what the doctor ordered. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Thomas the Truck made his way up. I parked the vehicle, got a room and let the nerves calm down for the night. This next morning, I sat in the room pondering, "Do I risk the drive back or stay another evening?" I figured what do I have to lose other than my life. I got in the truck and started the ignition. I moved it back down the icy slope. Several minutes and a shot of courage later, I got back onto the main road. After getting gas Operation Let's Get Home began. I thought to myself, " At least there is daylight and the sun is out." The ice slowly melted, as the temperature was a balmy 9 degrees. After turning onto US 380 for the final leg of the drive, my nerves still shaken, but sensing the end was in sight, I trucked along until I reached Runaway Bay when more automobiles showed up to the ice party. By that juncture, however, conditions were improving and at least I was not alone. The journey into Denton was packed, but road conditions were better. (I broke the sound barrier again at 50 mph). As I turned onto my street, I figured the worst was over, get home and relax. NOOOO. I turned and my street was icy. Better yet, I got into the parking lot of the apartment and could not turn to my favorite spot. I tried, but did not want to become familiar with a neighbor's insurance policy so I drove straight into a spot further down. Alas, I survived. I felt like I won the lottery. Hey, we can't always win $345 million.