Beten and Pumps

The deadliest thing in Canada is not a bloodthirsty bear or a rabid beaver. Enemy number one is the sneaky hamburger, and many Canadians succumb to the consequences caused by obesity. I burn thousands of calories on my way to work, and all I gain are beads of sweat. I've spent several terrifying minutes, if not hours, on Highway Number One. Apparently, the Inuits in the north have 50 different words for snow, but I know at least 100 different types of winter road conditions. There are roads with soapy snow, wet snow, yellow snow, no snow, dirt snow, drifting snow, ice, black ice, rain puddles with or without ice, hailstorms, blizzards, etc. That's why I bought brand new winter tires with spikes, so I can somewhat control my old Dodge. Despite my steel-studded tires and snail-like speed, I have already had a few slides and pirouettes. This wouldn't be so bad because the highway, like an ice rink, offers a large runoff area and snow-laden barriers that eventually stop you before the cliff. What stops you before that are the big trucks that either tailgate you at over 100 kilometers per hour or come towards you with snowstorms obstructing your view. When a monster like a disco ball appears in the rearview mirror, I dutifully use my turn signal, glide like Denise Bielmann to the shoulder, and pump my brakes to bring the car to a controlled stop. The only thing that continues to pump uncontrollably to country music is my heart.