Journal of a Sabbatical

March 8, 1999

lock de-icer

For those in warmer and drier climes, lock de-icer is basically isopropyl alcohol under pressure. You squirt it into, well, locks, to drive out water. I picked up a cylinder of it when I did my grocery shopping during that cold spell a couple of weeks ago. I'd made the mistake of going to the car wash before I heard the weather forecast, and the temperature had started to drop rapidly. I knew by the time I got out of the Stop & Shop I'd need the lock de-icer. So the bag boy at Stop & Shop looks at it as he's putting it into my shopping bag and asks "Lock de-icer? What's lock de-icer?" The cashier tells him it's to open frozen car door locks. The bag boy asks "why would you need to do that?" Obviously he hasn't reached driving age.

Last night when Nancy and I came out of the Hope St. CVS, I stuck my key into the driver's side door lock - or rather I tried to stick the key in. It was frozen solid. Not only could I not turn the lock, I couldn't even get the key into it at all. I reached into my pocket. No lock de-icer. It's sitting there in the cup holder, inside the car. Duh. Fortunately, the passenger side lock was not frozen. I immediately put the precious little cylinder in the pocket of my jacket and left it there.

So it's wicked cold this morning. And the wind is blowing the weekend's snow around in huge swirling eddies. We got about 8 inches of snow here, much less in Rhode Island. And it's a very dry, fine snow that seems to drift into every imaginable crack.

I took Waiting to Fly by Ron Naveen to Starbucks with me and settled in for two hours with book and coffee. Dan and Geri came in and decided I was so into my book they'd let me alone. I did chat with them briefly on my way out. We've been mulling over this plot to memorize some dialogue in Turkish while Hussein is away and then be talking seemingly effortlessly in Turkish the first time he comes in for coffee after he gets back from Istanbul. We're running out of time though.

Back at my car, there's like 5 minutes left on the meter, so my timing is good. I stick my key in the lock. Err, I try to stick my key in the lock. It's frozen solid. I can't get the key in even a sliver. Shades of last night. I whip the lock de-icer out of my pocket and ram the tip into the lock as hard as I can and the alcohol drips down the door. I try the key again. I can get it in but can't turn it. More de-icer. And yet more. At last, the key turns. The door opens.

I, of course, am frozen solid by this time and can think of nothing but curling up with some herbal tea, but I gamely do errands before settling in to pay bills. As a reward, I take myself out to dinner at Joseph's. The food is great but the restaurant has no heat. I eat with two shirts on and my nose buried in Waiting to Fly. My waitress apologizes for the lack of heat.

Eddies of blowing snow swirl back and forth across the road as I head home. This is the coldest it's been all winter.