[ScottyS]

So I'm coming back from a 1000yd shooting match in Sac today (cancelled halfway through due to excessive rain), and hit Donner at the worst possible time. Zoo city, man. Pickups flying around, SUVs tailgaiting, truckers pushing the limits, etc (not you, Matt). I'm like the only Subaru I see for practically the entire trip.

It's all fun and games until the rain starts to gel --- within minutes I get to the lines of stopped traffic. Good way to kill half an hour, I think --- and turn on the tunes. No problem, I'll just wait this out, skate by the chain control, and slalom my way past the minivans to the summit. Then finally I see the real cause of the backup --- not the chain control checkpoint itself, but the scads of freaking tourists frantically fighting for a piece of the chain-monkey pie. Obviously the same merging skills I see displayed on freeway onramps get raised to some unGodly power when slick sh$t is involved. 30 minutes for this? I start to get a feeling that a mistake has been made somewhere.

I grin at the chain checker as he waves me by, and head up the hill. To my dismay, I notice that the same dudes are waving the SUV's through in droves. Wait, shouldn't a lowered Suburban with 14" wide street tires and no chains on throw a red flag in SOMEBODY'S mind? Wonderful. I start trying to dodge the full-sized pickups spinning their rear chains and become aware that I can see cell phones in use simultaneously. Suddenly my sleeping bag and some parking lot by a Citrus Heights Walgreens is starting to sound attractive........but too late, missed another exit. I'll just perservere. The bad part is behind me.

Glaring brake lights drown out my Johnny A. CD, and pretty soon I'm stopped in another never-ending line of people that anywhere else I'd pay money to avoid. No escape. I shut off the engine and get out while the snowstorm doubles its effort. A chat with the trucker next door yields precious little information, and I resign myself to my fate. A semi tow truck offroads by through the drifts on the shoulder, and I start looking for a nice, flat campsite. Another 30min later, and just when I figure I've cleaned my headlights for the 20th time, suddenly traffic is moving again. No sign of the wreck, or stuck big-rig.

Things stay congested and psycho as the thundering herd catches up with three Cal-Trans plows, and one in four drivers gets cold feet on the pass, but for some reason refuses to reliquish the coveted #1 lane. Ego problems combined with despicable cowerdice is the worst personality combination this side of Bill Lumbergh. Aren't chains supposed to be like liquid courage? I stay in the #1 lane, along with the majority, as we try to ease past the obstacles. Things get complicated when suddenly the #2 lane is filled with idiots roaring up from behind, tailing the plow, and then slipping into spaces that were too small to begin with. This is what pissed me off the most, as it was repeated time and again the whole way to Bordertown. You can't tighten up and refuse them entry, as otherwise you've just reduced your stopping space to negative zero --- so you just have to back off and let the jack-asses play their little game.

Just as we get back to Ludicrous Spee.......I mean, 30mph, we reach another choke point --- this time on a hill. To my never-ending delight, I see a repeat-offender Mazda Tribute SUV full of snow-bunny wannabes spinning it's front tires without success while trying to get started again! I let the other folks manuver around the idiot-machine (in the #1 lane, of course), and stop a little ways behind the ignoramous-school dropouts. When I get out I see the chains. They're on the rears alright, but it's the fronts that are still spinning their way to China! As I'm walking up the slippery road, the pilot of a passing Jeep Cherokee loaded with another set of Gucchi 'boarder geniuses yells out, "Hey, they put them on the wrong ones! Aaahhhhahahah!". My reply as I step up to the Mazda? "Yeah, I thought these SUVS were supposed to be useful!" But he can't retort, as the flow of impatient travelers has conveniently swept him beyond vocal range. I get some nasty looks though, and not just from one car. It's nice to be heard. The Mazda driver's ghey snow-dingle-cap is obnoxiously close to my face as he rolls down the window. I get right to the point, "Is this thing four-wheel-drive?" "Uhhhh...no, it's just two-wheel," he says. "Pull over an put 'em on the fronts, dude, they ain't helping you there. It's your front tires spinning!" Dude: "Uhhhh....I can't, I'm stuck..." Incredulous. "Can you back that thing?" Dude: "Oh....."

I walk back to the Subie, which doesn't spin at all on lift-off. As his chick is out helping him pry the ice off the chains (as they get square on half the #1 shoulder), I yell out the window --- "You might want to put your hazards on!" Chick:"Oh, okay!". I figure on an uphill even the cell-phone sledders might stop in time.

Another 20min check at Soda Springs, another tow-truck driveby, and we're off again. Repeat the plow-passing scenario 3 more times on the downhill. Near the Prosser Road exit, a minivan full of English-second-language individuals suddenly pulls to the left shoulder (half in the #1 lane), and proceeds to unload. Some start throwing snow at one another, and some start removing chains, inexplicably. As I figure it's only a matter of minutes before one oblivious incompetant takes out another, I tap the horn as I shoot the narrows at 40mph. Half a mile later, I pass a perfectly open chain removal area. What the heck is with people?

One BMW-SUV-driving blue-hair takes up the #1 lane for a few miles below the Truckee scales. I'm pondering what to do when I see a 4Runner flying along the #1 shoulder, so I give them some room as I like my mirrors where they are. They are Tahoe locals for sure. They practically tap the BMW's glass with the middle finger as they sled by, and soon after I manage to get around the Beemer in the #2. As we hit wet asphalt just before Bordertown, I notice that some of the same crazy tailgating lifted-pickup drivers who tried to kill me in the beginning survived the ordeal, and didn't gain a whole lot. I resist the urge to expend my remaining ammunition on their balloon tires.



Whoa, I guess a 6.5 hour journey that should have taken 3 can get to you.