The first time I ever drove in snow, it was in Texas on Thanksgiving in about 1993 or 1994. It was the day Leon Lett blew a game for the Cowboys and handed it to the Dolphins in Dallas.
I knew as soon as I hit ice because the bridge on Interstate 35 was lined with wrecked cars, and I smiled smugly thinking my front wheel drive Buick Skyhawk was the perfect snow car. I drove carefully, but confidently passed vehicles along the way, making it all the way home in Arlington, TX from Austin, TX.
That drive made me so overconfident that I decided to drive to work the next morning, even though the roads were covered with ice and I didn’t really have to be there. As my car started to slide, I said, “Hay, watch this,” while I cut my front wheels to the side and gunned the throttle, thinking this would pull the car in the right direction. All turning the wheels did was ensure that I bent a rim on a curb. I was lucky I didn’t hit any cars in the process.