Truck Luck (A Tale of Holiday Shopping)

Last night, I took my son to Burlington Mall for a little dad-shopping time, because Jim was coming home late. So many people, so few parking spaces. I was driving the ancient family truck (okay, 10 years old isn't that bad, but it's not a youngster). The only spot I could find (upon the departure of another shopper) sat at the end of a row and was half-covered by plowed ice and snow.

Not seeing an option, I just drove right up onto it. The snow pile was so high and close to the passenger side door that The Boy had to climb out my side--no way to open the door.

The thing is: This isn't a four-wheel drive truck. When we got home, my husband said it was a good thing I hadn't gotten stuck, because it was easy to imagine that one of the drive wheels could have been sitting on ice.

I guess that the gods of luck decided that since I was fortunate enough to find a space of any kind, they wouldn't spoil it by forcing me to call a tow truck.