Up here in Maine, winter snow has an accumlative effect. Snow that fell in November is likely to see April. This often results in a tunnel like roadway system as the built up snow becomes harder to plow back. So the plow guys perform a magic feat called "winging". Driving close to the side of the road, the primary plow pushes into the bank forcing it up and back. It is caught by a higher secondary (the wing) plow that forces it and the built up banking back even further. The result is what appears to be a stepped bank.
A good winger is an artist. Able to force the most obstinate bank back and still not take out everyone's mailbox. An angry winger is just the opposite. They will leave 20 mangled mailboxes in their wake and all the snow they winged in the end of your driveway. It is not a good idea to get on their wrong side.
And I am afraid I am starting to get on their nerves. Or more accurately, Stub, our young mutt, is getting on their nerves. Stubb is a sweet dog. As dogs go, she is smart I guess. But when it comes to the rare traffic on our road, she is numb as a hake. Friday AM, I am digging out the end of the drive. Stubb is with me or nearby. I hear the plow coming. And who is in front of the plow? Yeah, our little Stubby. Just barely able to stay in front, she has this manic look on her face, tongue waggin, and going full tilt boogie. She dips off the road just about the time I figure she's dead meat. The plow guy goes by and he does not look happy.
Properly chastised, I give Stub what for. She knows she's screwed up, but the look in her eyes indicates she has no clue about what. Damn young dogs. So today I am at the other end of the drive opening it up a bit more and I hear the plow coming. From the lower more stressed sound, I can tell they have the wing out. As it comes into view, yep, Stub is leading the parade. I did not even know she was out. But that didn't matter. This second offense in 2 days is bound to come back on me the next snow storm.