This post is a veritable showcase for how challenged I am in so many areas: geographically, culturally, weather-ly (meteorologically?), not to mention vocabularily and spelling-ly. So if it's going to make you start twitching or anything (Annette!) just stop reading here. Seriously.
Apparently in Vietnam from whence our charming neighbors emmigrated, they do not routinely teach people to drive in the snow. (I am completely generalizing here, thus displaying many of the flaws listed above.)
See, Rooster Grandpa, as I like to call him, whom I happen to know does not speak or read any English at all, has been given the duty of driving the carpool of neighbor kids to school in the family mini-van every day. He is quite punctual, both at 7:05 when he honks for the middle school kids, and then again an hour later when he honks for the elementary kids.
So this morning shortly after the first honk, I heard this high pitched whining sound that just kept going and going. I went down to the window to see that Rooster Grandpa had the accelerator pressed all the way down, and was spinning his tires trying to make that minivan climb up the little hill next to our house. The van was actually moving at - I'm going to guess 2-3 mph, while I am absolutely sure the tires were going faster than 40+.
I mean, I could HEAR the tires from the other side of the house, people.
The thing is, yes, it was an ice skating rink down the middle of the street where one plow had come through one time. But on either side of the plowing width, there was ample snow pack. Grandpa! Just move over about 2 feet! The tires will grab the snow and you'll be fine!
It was just so obvious to me, that I stood there sort of dumbfounded and watched him spin that carload of kids to the top of the hill.
It kinda made me think about different people's life experiences. I mean, I have no idea how I would get by in a tropical place, where I have no experience. I hope I would have the chutzpa to do what Grandpa Rooster does, when he just keeps giving it everything he's got to get the job done.
One hour later, when the EXACT same thing happened with the next carpool, I also began to hope that I would have the ability to recognize that I don't know what the HECK I'm doing, and for the love of all that is holy, maybe I shouldn't be driving kids in a foreign climate where I can't understand the roadsigns.
But maybe that's a cultural thing, too.