Worry Warting

I know, in theory, that I used to drive in the snow without a care in the world. I commuted three times a week to Albuquerque when I was in graduate school, regardless of the weather. I even sat on the side of I-25 one night in the midst of a white-out, pre-cell phone, calmly weighing my options (there actually were no options. And at one point, a knock on my driver’s side window nearly sent me into a coma. It was a state police, informing me I’d pulled over into the middle of a lane and I better just try to make it home since they were about to close the highway).
I drove to EspaƱola every single day when I worked for the SUN, through plenty of treacherous storms.
So why am I now considering taking the bus until the snow desists? Is this just yet another tedious result of ageing: fear, fear with a side of fear? Or is this a wonderful sign of growing maturity: the ability to make reasoned and practical decisions?
Or (and?) do I need to break down and buy a honkin’ SUV to carry me safely through winter storms?

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