“It is 6:07 on Friday the 20th; I'm on Illinois 39, at, uh... I think I just passed mile marker 111, I'm out by like Byron or Jenoba or some... place, and, it is.. snowing. This is like cats and dogs living together, Biblical frigging Plague of Snow.
Um, I am in all-wheel drive, I have not exceeded 25 miles an hour in the past 45 minutes, I've lost count of how many vehicles I've seen in the ditch, and (voice rising in urgency) You KNOW IT'S BAD when the PLOW YOU'VE BEEN FOLLOWING has gone INTO THE DITCH AS WELL and you have to go past him. THE PLOW- WAS IN- THE DITCH.
I have to repeat that one more time: I'm driving, in this weather, and I just passed one of the DOT plows IN THE DITCH. He slid in. This is NOT a good sign. If I get to Madison, somebody owes me a steak dinner.
If I don't make it to Madison... somebody please feed my cat.”