How do you approach an unusual or new and difficult task, assignment or challenge – one for which your body of knowledge holds little or no related experience? You want to accomplish the objective, but you don’t know how to get from A to Z.
The logical first step is to search out others who have achieved the same or similar goals. How did they do it? Does a standard game plan or best practice exist? Is there a conventional route that can be followed?
Unless you want to hack your way through the jungle and blaze your own path, or your goal is to be unconventional and innovative, then the existing pathway is the one that carries the least risk and the most promise of success. Nevertheless, a well-worn path followed blindly can lead to failure.
Although Maryland lies beneath the Mason Dixon Line and is sometimes thought of as a “Southern” state, we do get our fair share of winter weather. One cold weekday, a windy storm rolled into the region during the morning and began dumping a surprising amount of snow. Since the severity of the storm was unexpected, the return home commute was an unanticipated challenge.
Half of my commute was on Metrorail, the DC area’s rapid transit system, and that went smoothly. My car was parked in an indoor garage, so there was no snow to clear. And the initial part of my drive was on Route 50, a major highway that is kept well-plowed and salted. The problems began when I arrived in my town, Bowie, and the last two miles of the ride.
The plows had not been able to keep up with the snowfall rate, but the roads were passable. I told myself, just take it slow and everything will be fine. I simply followed in the tracks that had previously been laid down by other cars, and I made progress. Then, on Stonybrook Drive, I saw red flashing lights ahead and vehicles making u-turns. A tree had fallen partially onto the road and had brought down electrical wires with it.
So, I doubled back and then turned onto Belair Drive – not a direct route to my home, but close enough. It is an interesting road, as it passes by the Belair Mansion, home to a colonial governor of Maryland, and the Belair Stables. One can almost imagine what the area was like back in the 1700s, two centuries before Levitt homes were built on almost every bit of available land.
On this day, Belair Drive was beautiful, with snow-draped trees and the blacktop a ribbon of white. Following the well-worn path was getting me home without a complication, and I relaxed my guard. Isn’t that when trouble often occurs?
In the last half mile of the road, Belair Drive climbs a hill and then curves to the left on the downside. I had no slipping or sliding climbing the hill. As I crested it and began my descent, I noticed the tracks heading off to the right instead of curving around to the left. That’s odd, I thought to myself. Why the heck would they go over that way? Then, before I could even perceive what was happening, I was in a skid right within those tracks, headed straight toward the edge of the road. I started pumping my brakes, like you are supposed to do on ice, but the car didn’t respond. It was then that I realized that the tracks were leading directly to a metal streetlight pole, about twenty feet high. The pole was straight ahead – maybe one hundred feet away.
I pumped the brakes madly. If I hit the pole, it could come down on me. The tires started to grip a bit, but it looked like I was still going to have a collision. Twenty-five feet out and I was still trying to come to a stop. Pump those brakes! Pump those brakes!
I came to a stop two feet from the pole, which was dead center in front of me. My body shook with adrenaline, and I broke out in a sweat. I backed up and drove the rest of the way home slowly and uneventfully.
When I woke up the next morning, my right leg was sore from having pumped those brakes so intensely. And I thought about the wisdom of having blindly followed those tracks in the snow.