The Score: Winter - 1, Tyler - 0

Alas, Winter.

You have started a battle to which I will fight for as long as I breathe your fierce, piercing air. You know not of the passion to which I will maintain a battle, whether of wits or of fists. Know this, Winter: I will not quit until I have laid upon you great pain and anguish and damage amounting to roughly somewhere between $3,000 and $4,000.

There I was, driving northbound on Groat Road, enjoying some excellent Wolf Parade (loud and clapped-along with, naturally), and attempting to shake off a most excellent hangover from the night previous. You must believe that I was completely aware of the terrible driving conditions that I had embarked upon. Winter had made its move early in the night, and still had its hand on the piece come morning. However, my trust, albeit in hindsight, rather misguided, was placed squarely on the four stalwart sandbags placed carefully over my rear axle. Indeed, it would seem that my own hubris was accumulating faster than the blanket of white covering the City of Champions.

Groat Road is not to be traveled nor taken lightly, as I can attest from years of traversing it's serpentine body. It exploits with no discrimination. It can consume the hotshot douchebag riding the crotch-rocket, to the family of four in the Astro van, battling each other and threats of "turning this car right around". Perhaps I did not exhibit the kind of respect Groat deserves, but I certainly didn't give Winter its due. Mea culpa.

Everyone says that they have a small moment of panic when they first get the feeling of control lost. Granted, I may have felt a little bit of it, but when you drive a rear-wheeled truck, losing control in fresh snow sort of comes with the territory. I didn't compensate enough, I compensated too much. Either way, it's a moot point now. Winter decided that it was my turn to have my ride sidelined, and for a price. As I slammed into the centre meridian wall, I immediately uttered the one indisputable retort: "Aw, C'MON!". Perhaps not as terse as an obscenity, but had there been a Michael in the car with me, I would have been quite pleased to have referenced Arrested Development in such a circumstance. After getting to the emergency turnout, I thanked somebody, something, for allowing me to collide with only myself, and not anyone else traveling. Also, much thanks to the gentleman who inquired about my status. Applause for you, kind sir.

When the dust has settled, my insurance company will be hit for over 3Gs, and my pride will have taken a bit of a nock. But Winter, the truck can be fixed, my confidence will return, and I will embark on a campaign of retaliation towards you. I feel the sudden need to alleviate my bladder, and your precious, white snow seems an adequate canvas. Crude, but it's a start.