No Studs
It's really not advisable after the first dumping.
She continued to bend and straighten her fingers even as she pushed down on the brake and heard the car’s thrum of energy. Any reprieve from the icy bite of the not-yet-thawed steering wheel. If only she didn’t bite her nails so much, maybe they could’ve held the wheel for her. The crunch of the windshield wipers were enough to tell her that she should have warmed up the car an hour ago.
Still more flurries fell from the sky and into her brain. Why am I the first set of tire tracks on this road? Aren’t the neighbors gonna go to work too?
The windshield was a vortex of flakes, blizzarding, churning, nearly hypnotizing. The only sound on the street was the squeal of her tires flattening inches of snow to the ground. No studs.
She slowed her roll and reminded herself of the emergency brake. Maybe if she just went ten under the limit it wouldn’t matter. Just ease into the turns. Just don’t run into wildlife on your way there. Yet all the elk were already staring into her car as she rolled by. Hundreds upon hundreds of animal eyeballs glazed over with cold stood on the hillside. Their hides dusted in white. They tracked her with the tilt of their heads as if she was interrupting some very important meeting. She wondered how they can bear the single digits. They wondered how she can take her eyes of the road while that construction truck is rounding the corner… wait.
It was obvious the turn was too sharp from the moment she began to rotate the wheel. Now she reminded herself of what she should try to do as her car continued to slide. Turn the wheel in the opposite direction. Not toward where you want to go. No. It was too late. She should count herself lucky for not having been further up the hill. This way the car just sunk onto its side, the snow bank a pillow between her and the unforgiving pavement.