Common sense 101, followed by common courtesy 001

One recent restful Saturday morning, my sleep was interrupted by the continual spinning of wheels in the snow. Not an unusual sound this time of year, but the incessant groaning kept on repeatedly, until I was sure that whatever vehicle was stuck, had now burrowed itself into a hole that only a tow truck could yank out. The sound had, after all been going on for over 30 minutes.

Unable to peacefully enjoy the satisfaction of being lazy, I rose from between the warm flannel sheets, pulled a pair of sweat pants over my PJ bottoms and slipped into my heavy coat. Putting on boots and gloves I went out the front door prepared to walk across the snow covered lawn that spread out before our small bungalow. I figured once at the edge of the property, I'd look down the 30-foot slope to the road where I expected to see a car angled sharply into a ditch. Maybe they needed some assistance.

Stepping out the door, I immediately saw a small dump truck partially up our driveway, bearing its company name on the passenger door, no doubt from the place that was due to make a delivery this day.

Bewildered, I felt a scowl of sorts, wrinkling up my face as I quickly real- ized that the truck had been backing up our driveway, and was not moving. Why the driver decided to back up our long driveway instead of just driving in, is beyond me. How the end of the truck wound up at least four feet off the driveway over a two foot snow bank and onto our lawn is beyond me. There was no mystery car in any ditch on the road, instead it was the delivery truck on our plowed driveway.

The young male driver had a young female in the cab with him. Showing off, being silly, being distracted or just inexperience may have caused the rear end of the truck to maroon itself on the far side of the snow bank. The left tire had dug itself into the frozen ground, while the right tire burned its rubber into our bare asphalt.

Approaching with a "what the hell" feeling darting through my head, I called to our son and his friend. Both teens had been helping push the truck out of the snow, a futile and very dangerous endeavour. The kids backed off and I got closer, getting a full view of the senseless damage caused by the delivery guy and his truck. What had he been thinking?

Back and forth an inch or so each time, the truck rocked as two delivery employees and my husband tried to push. A fair sized, flat piece of wood had been placed in front of the right, rear tire on the pavement for some traction. Again the engine was revved and both tires resumed their spinning. Foolishly I joined in, standing beside the trucks' female passenger who was now positioned behind the wheels, trying to push, as some forward momentum began to build.

As the truck finally lurched laboriously out of its hole, naturally the slab of wood used for traction shot out behind the truck like a bullet. Stupid me.

To have been so totally wrapped up in getting this truck out if its predicament, so as to prevent further damage to the asphalt and lawn-gone-ditch, I had seriously failed chapter one of what I'm now calling "stupidity for dummies" (aka "common sense").

The failing grade was delivered by the flying piece of wood that whacked my left leg just above the ankle. Turning away with an appropriate curse, I limped across the driveway over to our front walk then collapsed with searing pain onto all fours. Thank goodness for our snowy walkway, which cushioned each knee landing of my 20- foot crawl to the door leading into our home.

While tending to my injury, although I cannot say which hurt more, the damaged leg or my stint as a dolt, the truck finally made its delivery in front of our garage.

A few hours later, after applying ice intermittently and a couple of pain tablets, my leg still has a deep imprint from the woods' edge across the shin bone, and parts of my skin are turning black, blue and purple. And of course, it hurts to walk.

As for the supplier? Yes they collected their cash, including the delivery fee, and perhaps were too embarrassed to even say "we're sorry." And then they drove away. Never, to be ever seen again in my driveway, nor I in theirs.

C. Watson, King Township