The Snowstorm Shuffle

Jake trudged out of the terminal, his business suit wrinkled and his patience worn thin from three days of back-to-back meetings. The biting cold hit him hard as he spotted the one bright spot in the storm: Dale, waving from his ancient, rusted car—a death trap held together by duct tape and dreams.

Jake and Dale had been friends forever, the kind who survived wild teenage antics and questionable adult decisions. From sneaking into concerts to the time Jake attempted “road skiing” out of Dale’s car, their stories were legendary. This snowstorm ride was just another chapter.

Jake slid into the passenger seat and immediately regretted it. “What happened to your wipers?” he asked, eyeing the windshield.

“They broke,” Dale said, handing Jake a rag. “Teamwork solves everything.”

Before Jake could argue, Dale rolled down the windows. As the car roared onto the icy road, both men hung out of the vehicle, furiously wiping snow off the windshield. The icy wind slapped Jake’s face, snow poured into the car, and laughter spilled into the storm.

“This is insane!” Jake yelled, half-laughing, half-freezing.

“Yeah, but it’s us!” Dale grinned, his enthusiasm undeterred by the elements.

By the time they reached Jake’s driveway, both were soaked and freezing but grinning like fools. Dale clapped Jake on the back. “Still got it.”

Jake shook his head, laughing. “Next time, my car.”

Dale roared off into the storm, and Jake stood there, snow whipping around him. Wild friends, wild stories—it was just how they worked.