Trial by Ice

In the winter of 1990, I borrowed my dad's old 1970s S10 pickup to move out of the dorm after graduation. As I slipped behind the wheel, a sense of nostalgia enveloped me. The worn seats crackled gently beneath me as I gripped the hard plastic wheel and the cold nob on the gear shift. It didn’t take long for the reality of its condition to hit me. The faded white exterior was speckled with rust from sitting outside on sunny days long gone. The floor had a sizable hole, a gaping reminder of the pickup's age, offering an unintended view of the asphalt below. The manual transmission, though a nostalgic nod to the past, lived up to the “broken everything” moniker, grinding and stuttering with every shift, as if it were cautioning me to preserve its fragile essence. Still, the engine hummed with a gritty charm, inviting me to embrace its quirks like an old friend. Despite its flaws, driving that rusty old relic was a delightful challenge that rekindled my appreciation for simpler times.

On moving day, I braced myself against the biting cold, struggling to pack my dorm belongings into the tiny pickup. With temperatures hovering well below zero and relentless gusts of wind hitting me at 40 miles per hour, each item I reached for felt heavier, as if the elements conspired against me. The thick layers I wore barely shielded me from the numbing chill, and I found myself wrestling with every box and bag, my fingers numb and uncooperative from the cold. The sight of my scattered belongings, a mixture of clothes, textbooks, and mementos representing countless memories, made me momentarily forget the harsh conditions, igniting a longing for warmth and comfort. I was determined to fit everything in, but with the wind howling and each gust threatening to topple my precariously balanced stacks, I had to swiftly adapt my strategy. I flung together layers of cardboard and bedding to shield my precious items from the bitter elements, all while trying to keep my body anchored to the ground. After everything was loaded, I fought against the wind, trying to secure a large tarp over the bed of the truck to protect my things from the icy precipitation that threatened to seep into my life’s keepsakes. Despite the challenges, the experience was a surreal, if not slightly comedic, rite of passage; after all, nothing says “college memories” quite like wrestling with a stubborn wind in a desperate attempt to evade the winter’s fury while feeling the thrill of embarking on a new adventure beyond the dorm walls.

Upon reentering Corby Hall, I found myself in my vacant dorm room. The remnants of laughter and friendship from my four plus years there seemed to swirl around me like the howling winds outside, serving as a haunting yet oddly comforting reminder of the moments shared within these walls. The room, now a mere shell of its former self, contained only a few stray items, accompanied by a faint hint of nostalgia. Just outside, my pickup truck waited, its bed filled with my most treasured possessions, each one representing a piece of my college journey. The wind lashed against the window, reminding me of the significant change I was about to face as I prepared to leave this chapter behind. The echoes of late-night chats, spontaneous study groups, and shared aspirations lingered in my heart, blending with the bittersweet feeling of an impending goodbye. This last night felt like an emotional release, a momentary pause before stepping into the unknown, accompanied by both excitement and uncertainty. With my friends having departed after finals that day, the building stood nearly empty around me. Embracing the tranquility, I took a moment to contemplate the friendships, obstacles, and growth that had defined my experience, aware that as I shut this door, a new one would soon beckon me into a realm of endless possibilities.

Waking up the next morning in the eerily empty dorm room, I was immediately hit by a brisk coldness that seeped through the cement brick walls. Fumbling for my clothes in the dim light, I hurriedly dressed, not wanting to lose the meager warmth that I could generate by staying active. My mind raced with plans for the drive home as I picked up my pillow and blankets and made my way to the front door. Excitement surged within me, only to crash against the harsh reality of the chilly air as I stepped outside. Bracing against the howling gusts of wind, I trudged toward the little white pickup parked haphazardly in a small bank of snow. Tossing my pile of blankets on the seat next to me, I turned the key in the ignition, but instead of the familiar roar of the engine, I was met with an unsettling silence. Once, twice, a desperate third try—the engine wouldn't even cough or sputter as it stubbornly refused to start, mocking me in the frigid morning air. The cold bit at my fingertips, and with every futile attempt, I could feel my resolve beginning to wane, realizing that today would not go as planned.

As I sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, frustration bubbled within me, threatening to spill over into tears. Without much hope, I turned the key again, but was met once again with the disheartening click of silence. Just as a wave of despair washed over me, I glanced up through the windshield, and my heart gave a little leap. A red pickup truck was slowly driving toward me, its headlights shining brightly through the frosty dawn. I could see the silhouette of a friendly group of nuns inside, a beacon of hope in my moment of need. Would they offer assistance or maybe a jumpstart? The thought of help arriving began to quell my frustrations, pulling me back from the brink of tears, and filling me with the warmth of human connection.

To my surprise, the kind-hearted nuns, accustomed to the trials and tribulations of student life, offered their assistance, using their truck to tow my vehicle to their garage for some warmth. I jumped into the warm cab of their truck while they hooked up the towing chain to the fully loaded little pickup. As we navigated the snow-dusted parking lot connected to the convent, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of community envelop me. Once in the garage, they plugged in the engine block of my pickup to help it warm up quicker. As soft beams of sunlight streamed through the frosted windows, I sat with a few other students who had also been rescued. As we waited for our vehicles to heat up, we enjoyed steaming cups of hot cocoa and chuckled about South Dakota's absurd weather. An hour later, the thoughtful sisters of Sacred Heart Convent sent me off with an extra cup of cocoa for the journey.

Exiting Yankton on highway 50, the icy breath of winter descended with a bone-chilling vengeance. The temperature sat at an unforgiving 20 degrees below zero, while a staggering wind chill factor drove the mercury down to a numbing 60 below. Each gust of frigid air felt like a sharp knife against exposed skin, demanding immediate warmth and protection. In this relentless cold, I pulled to the side of the road to wrap my warm comforter around the thick winter coat I already wore. Thanks to the unfortunate hole in the floor, the creeping cold rushed into the cab to erase any warmth the heater tried to provide. Each of my breaths formed a visible cloud, swirling in the frigid air as I huddled deeper into my blanket, feeling grateful for its weight and warmth. The stark silent beauty of the snow-covered landscape outside contrasted sharply with the uncomfortable reality I faced within. I reminded myself that perseverance was key, and while the cold raged outside, I mentally embraced the challenge as I sped toward the warmth of home.

While driving along the deserted highway, the world outside transformed into a winter wonderland, the light glinting off the snow like thousands of diamonds scattered across a vast canvas. The solo drive gave me a chance to think about my future after graduation. I realized that the change I had been fearing was not something to dread but rather an exciting leap into the unknown filled with new experiences and friendships. I thought back to the nuns, their kindness igniting my faith in the good of humanity, and I smiled to myself, understanding that every obstacle I faced was an opportunity for growth.

Eventually, the familiar landscape of home neared on the horizon, the trees adorned with glistening snowflakes welcoming me back like old friends. As I drove into the driveway, the crunch of snow echoed under the tires, and the initial hints of warmth began to envelop me, dispelling the icy hold of winter. At last, I was home.

Often, when I face a difficult time in my life, I recall this journey that revealed to me how challenges are seldom insurmountable; instead, they present chances to enhance determination and foster patience. By enduring the cold and leaning on those around me on that long-ago December day, I emerged from my journey firmly believing that, with resolve and a strong support system, I could face any adversity life presented. And, I have!