Every first snowfall, I used to hit the ditch. Maybe it’s because I was used to driving fast on rough, flat surfaces and didn’t have my winter reflexes. Whatever the reason, I would call our friend Gerry Voyer and ask him to pull me out. A couple of times, this happened on our country road and I’d walk to Gerry’s garage where he’d get out his truck and take me to the scene of the "accident." One winter’s day, I was taking a long stroll down MacPherson Drive when Gerry passed me in his truck. He stopped, rolled down his window and sighed. "OK," he said. "Where is it?" He thought I had hit the ditch again and was coming for help. It was then that I realized just how often I had run off the road!