Snowplow drivers kick ass. I love them. They make Wisconsin and the northern environment livable and drivable when other parts of the country succumb to snow.
This occurred to me the past week (not that the thought hasn’t come to me at other times) as we experienced three days of snow requiring removal. Driving home one evening from refereeing a basketball game, snow blowing like CRAZY and coming down blindingly from the side, the snowplow appeared in my headlights.
He’s heading in my direction, yellow lights blinking. I slow down, pull a bit to the right.
Then, I marvel at the snow flying to the side as the gigantic beast rumbles by, swirling snow in its wake as the driver passes on the other side of the road.
It’s a lonely gig. Those men and women are out by themselves during harsh conditions, often dangerous, extreme cold and bad roads. We rely on them. They carry that burden of keeping drivers safe, helping us get to our jobs and all the other locations important in our daily lives.
We don’t survive without them. It’s that simple.
If the roads don’t get plowed well in a timely fashion (emphasis on “well” and “timely”), we cannot go on with our daily lives. You’re stuck in your home, or god forbid, if you are on the road somewhere, you could get stuck on a lonely road piled into a snowdrift in the middle of nowhere.
The drivers work all hours. Routinely, I imagine, 10-, 12- or 14-hour days. They are on the road by the wee early morning hours. I see them regularly before 5 a.m. plowing to make our roads safe.
Day after day (as we’ve had recently), they get out, do their job, come home, grab some quick sleep, eat, attempt to recharge and touch base with their family, then back to the truck again. They know it’s a mission.
If you have a home emergency like a pipe bursting in the basement, having your road plowed means the plumber can get to your house. If you or someone in your family has a major medical condition requiring immediate attention, the cleared road allows you to get there. Snowplow drivers are essential and dedicated.
I remember reading a novel many years ago based in northern Minnesota. There were a number of scenes featuring snowplow drivers, facing the endless monotony of snow coming down, trying to stay awake and safe on the road, doing their jobs to the best of their ability.
It struck me how hard that would be – the relentlessness of driving that truck for hour after hour, and often on shifts that come at you day after day after day if snow continues falling. So easy for them to wear out mentally, physically and psychologically, and the author explored those complexities in some of the characters.
So, here’s a big salute to all snowplow drivers. Thank you for what you do. I’m thinking about you when I’m out on the road before, during or after a winter storm. I empathize with you and your job. Keep after it. We need you.
Forward this along to any snowplow drivers you know.
This occurred to me the past week (not that the thought hasn’t come to me at other times) as we experienced three days of snow requiring removal. Driving home one evening from refereeing a basketball game, snow blowing like CRAZY and coming down blindingly from the side, the snowplow appeared in my headlights.
He’s heading in my direction, yellow lights blinking. I slow down, pull a bit to the right.
Then, I marvel at the snow flying to the side as the gigantic beast rumbles by, swirling snow in its wake as the driver passes on the other side of the road.
It’s a lonely gig. Those men and women are out by themselves during harsh conditions, often dangerous, extreme cold and bad roads. We rely on them. They carry that burden of keeping drivers safe, helping us get to our jobs and all the other locations important in our daily lives.
We don’t survive without them. It’s that simple.
If the roads don’t get plowed well in a timely fashion (emphasis on “well” and “timely”), we cannot go on with our daily lives. You’re stuck in your home, or god forbid, if you are on the road somewhere, you could get stuck on a lonely road piled into a snowdrift in the middle of nowhere.
The drivers work all hours. Routinely, I imagine, 10-, 12- or 14-hour days. They are on the road by the wee early morning hours. I see them regularly before 5 a.m. plowing to make our roads safe.
Day after day (as we’ve had recently), they get out, do their job, come home, grab some quick sleep, eat, attempt to recharge and touch base with their family, then back to the truck again. They know it’s a mission.
If you have a home emergency like a pipe bursting in the basement, having your road plowed means the plumber can get to your house. If you or someone in your family has a major medical condition requiring immediate attention, the cleared road allows you to get there. Snowplow drivers are essential and dedicated.
I remember reading a novel many years ago based in northern Minnesota. There were a number of scenes featuring snowplow drivers, facing the endless monotony of snow coming down, trying to stay awake and safe on the road, doing their jobs to the best of their ability.
It struck me how hard that would be – the relentlessness of driving that truck for hour after hour, and often on shifts that come at you day after day after day if snow continues falling. So easy for them to wear out mentally, physically and psychologically, and the author explored those complexities in some of the characters.
So, here’s a big salute to all snowplow drivers. Thank you for what you do. I’m thinking about you when I’m out on the road before, during or after a winter storm. I empathize with you and your job. Keep after it. We need you.
Forward this along to any snowplow drivers you know.
