One winter day, much like today, Pete and I were driving to a job. The road was quite slippery with wet snow and Pete drove with a look of concern on his face.

“What’s the best job you ever did, Pete?”

“Don’t talk to me, I’m trying to drive.”

“What’s the best thing you ever made?”

“Will you shut up, or I’ll end up in the ditch.”

A transport truck passed us and splashed heavy slush all over the windshield. Pete shouted some obscenities and shook his fist.

“Yeah, he’s gone already. I don’t think he can hear you.”

“You sound like my wife.”

“Haha! That reminds me of this superintendent I know who came to work one morning that was just like this. His driver’s side window wouldn’t roll all the way up, so when the trucks passed like that, he ended up with slush on his face. That morning, it was so heavy, his hair and his shirt were soaked!”

“Very funny.” Pete continued to keep his eyes dead forward on the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Once, I drove back from a job in complete white out. It took over three hours to get home,” I said.

“Should have stayed in a motel,” I added.

“But, you know, never had any money,” I concluded.

Pete stared straight ahead.

I waited a while then asked, “What are we doing today, anyway?”

He actually sighed and slowly turned his head to me, just for a second, and said, “You’re about to discover what it’s like to be on the side of the road, walking in this crappy weather.”

The truck slowed down.

“Hey, I was just trying to make conversation. What are you doing, are we turning around?”

The truck stopped. He put it in park and took out the key.

“Nope,” he said and opened the door. “We’re out of gas.”

The next two hours were much less jovial.