Riders on the storm

I’d seen friendlier welcome signs than the one that greeted us as we crossed the Wisconsin border into Iowa Saturday afternoon.

“Travel not advised,” the flashing sign read.

Ours was not a recreational trip, and we wanted to honor a commitment we’d made to the people on the other side of it. Still, we warned our passengers a few times that we may need to pull over ahead of our goal.

“We need to be safe,” we said more than a few times.

We inched along in our truck, flashers on, through what looked like a semi-trailer graveyard.

Jackknifed trucks littered the highway and I wondered about their drivers and how those trucks would ever find their way back to the highway again.

A historic storm had blown through the night before, and a frigid front followed. It looked like most of the trucks had skidded on the ice and a few others had crashed into them.

Most of what we were seeing had happened the night before, but Saturday’s roads were not great either.

One trucker my husband spoke to said he had skidded off the road near Cameron, Missouri then was unable to call his dispatcher because his electronics had frozen.

He ended up calling 911.

Historic storms like that tax everyone — first responders, tow truck drivers, professional drivers, hotel employees, restaurant workers and truck stop employees.

Here’s to all of them.

Our global economy depends on people willing to make hard decisions regarding weather they can predict, and to react calmly in the face of situations no one saw coming.

Our trip took us way longer than we had planned, but we arrived safely and accomplished our goal.

Had we known the roads in Eastern Iowa were going to be so terrible , we would not have gone at all.

We did have that choice.

I just want to say thank you to all the people who make their living traversing those roads, to all the riders on the storms, and the ones who keep them safe and warm.

We’re grateful for you all.