The Mrs. and I made it home last afternoon, returning to a driveway with 12"+ snow, with 1" sheets of ice layered within.
The PennDot boys were nice enough to add an additional foot or so of snow, sand, rocks, and Ice to the mouth of the driveway, too.
After spending an hour trying to operate a snow shovel with one hand (and not being able to bend/lift, because of the graft donor site on my right-side tummy) and watching car after car drive by, with people actually gawking and waving, (our house is on a busy street, and probably 100 or so cars went by in that hour)but no one stopping to so much as ask if we needed help, I was pretty down on the population of Indiana, PA, and mankind in general.
Then someone got my truck stuck in the driveway. Out-damned-standing.
While trying to keep my cool, and trying to un-stuck the truck, and trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to keep the Mrs. from taking a swing at me, Steve showed up.
Carren and I were frustrated, tired, and sore. We were taking it out on each other, and I could forsee a great night of bickering, bitching, and general crabbiness on both our parts. Add two excited kids, and we had a recipe for a *really* fun evening.
Instead, a guy pulls up in a pickup with plow attached, and asks if we need help getting the truck unstuck. I readily accept, but explain that I can't dig/chain/.etc because my hand is in a big ball of bandages. Steve not only pulls&digs out the truck, he plows the whole driveway, then helps Carren and I clear off her car, and then finishes plowing the drive.
The topper? When all is said and done, I shake his hand, thank him, and say "You're my hero, you really saved us today."
His answer "No, you're the hero, I'm just glad I could help you."
(PS, all you poeple who drove by and gawked, kiss my ass.)