AUTHOR’S NOTE: My apologies to followers of Facebook’s Friday Flash Fics page. I either forgot to post this picture there or it got deleted! ——jeff

Snow Day

by Jeff Baker

This all happened about seventeen years ago when I was in High School in D’Artagnan, Kansas. But this isn’t a story about High School, it’s about my getting home from my older sister’s house in a blizzard.

We lived about a block or so from downtown, not that there was much of a downtown; flower shop in an old gas station, couple of convenience stores, two Mexican restaurants, theater that showed kid’s movies on the weekend, intersection with a couple of 110 year-old buildings on either side, High School visible at the end of the street. And my sister lived about seven blocks away. Her house was walking or bike riding distance from our house, but so was everything else in town. At least that was when it wasn’t snowing. I’d spent the night there playing board games that weekend and the snow was just letting up when I was getting up that morning.

Around mid-afternoon Mom called me and told me that there was more snow on the way and if I was going to be snowed-in when they closed school I was going to be snowed-in at home.

I told her I could be snowed-in at Ruthie’s just as well playing Monopoly and Yahtzee.

“Jason Sylvester Jones! You are coming home right now!” Mom said in that Mom Tone. “Your Dad is busy so I called your Uncle Gil and he’s coming right over to pick you up.”

And that was that.

My Uncle Gil was actually my Grandmother’s youngest cousin (55 seemed old to me then!) and his full name was Gilbert Keith Chesterton Menken. (He hated it!) and he was “self-employed.” Dad said he could list his occupation as “whacky inventor” on his taxes. He lived in an old farmhouse just outside of town where he did all his inventing. He didn’t look like a mad scientist. He was about 5’10” with brownish hair, lean and clean shaven. He channeled accountant more than physicist.

Anyway, about fifteen minutes later there was a weird honking outside the house and my Uncle pulls up in a glistening white car. It looked like something out of the 40’s; long, rounded curves, like a Packard or Chevy. The windows were plastic (he told me later) and there were lights and turning lights mounted on the front and back.

As I got closer to the car I realized that it was made out of snow! Wheels, the top, everything! Uncle Gil sat behind the wheel wearing coat and gloves. A couple of switches on a box that I guess operated the lights and a funny looking silvery box were all embedded in the snowy dashboard.

“Jason! Good to see you!” Uncle Gil said as I opened the door, glad I was wearing gloves and a coat and got in. He indicated a beach towel draped over the back of the seat down to the seat and indicated I should sit there so I wouldn’t freeze my butt.

“Put on your seat belt,” Uncle Gil said. “Your Mom will have my butt in a sling if I didn’t have you do that. Welcome to my Snow Mobile.” At least the seat belt was real. It looked like it was hooked to the seat by clamps made out of ice.

Uncle Gil ran a gloved finger over a metal disc in the middle of the steering wheel and the car moved forward with a crunching sound like when you rolled around in snow.

“You made a car out of snow?” I asked, even though it was obvious.

“I can form and animate anything out of snow!” Uncle Gil said. “This little gadget does it. Don’t touch it!” He pointed to the silvery thing on the dashboard.

“Wow!” I breathed, realizing I could see my breath.

“I programmed it to look like my Grandfather’s car,” Uncle Gil said. “The wheels move and they even turn when I turn the steering wheel…” We turned down a side street just to show how it worked, “and there’s a braking controller right by my foot.”

I glanced down and there was another silvery disc embedded in the driver’s side floor. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Uncle Gil had pointed out a Flux Capacitor. I took off one glove and tapped on the seat. It felt as solid as stone.

“Gadget doesn’t have a name yet,” Uncle Gil said.

“Well, if this is your Snow Mobile why not call it the Snow Mobilizer?” I said.

He nodded, grinned and we both laughed.

“How fast does this thing go?” I asked imagining a midnight drag race between two snowy dragsters.

“Not much more than ten miles an hour,” he said. “But it’s perfect for navigating snowy streets.” He tapped the disc in the steering wheel. “I control everything else with this. And I rigged up turn lights and headlights and stuck the license plate from my pickup on the back!” Uncle Gil laughed.

“Cool!” I said. What else could I say?”

We turned onto my street and I could see the house at the end of the block. That was when the Snow Mobilizer started to sputter. The car slowed to a stop and shuddered and suddenly collapsed into an inert pile of soft snow there in the street.

“Oh well,” Uncle Gil said as we climbed out of the snow. “Back to the drawing board.”

I fished my glove out of the snow pile and we walked toward the house and hopefully some hot cocoa.

—end—