A Christmas Year in Review on the 401
Final thoughts on 2020 with Chet Baker and a Christmas snow storm.
It’s Christmas morning in Scarborough, 1:40am, as I merge onto the westbound ramp at Kennedy and 401. There’s nothing profound about this moment, other than the fact that it’s been a year like no other in modern history. The day marks the near-end of a hellish year that has left everyone around the world feeling exhausted, anxious, and more or less suffocated from the nonstop onslaught of terrible news.
Unsurprisingly, it’s snowing. A lot. I’m driving through a storm on my way home and what should take about thirty minutes is easily going to take about an hour and some change. I merge onto the 401 to find snow caked onto the road with the lane markers nearly indiscernible. I chuckle to myself a little, first in disbelief that our collective taxes couldn’t ensure clear roads during a storm, and then at the fact that it was still 2020 after all.
I change lanes (or what I can make them out to be) carefully to catch the express and realize that I had picked up a rather sizeable chunk of snow while still on Kennedy and it is now stuck somewhere between my front passenger tire. I realize at this moment, through the annoying gurgling of the piece of snow, that I have been driving for about twenty minutes in silence. I decide to play some Chet Baker for the remaining duration of the tedious drive.
There’s something about soft, crooning jazz that eases the nerves when you should perhaps be more nervous and frantic. Next time you’re stuck in a rather unpleasant situation, give it a try. I drive a little Japanese sedan that neither has a lot of power nor weight to it, so treacherous road conditions aren’t exactly pleasant to drive through. Luckily, this is my second winter ever with proper winter tires so I’m a little more confident in my ability to get through it. Still, the car pulls to the left about twice before even passing the Don Valley and nearly spins out. There aren’t a lot of cars going westbound, but still a few scattered about. I’m driving between sixty and eighty (km/h), a dramatic departure from my usual (which is best not mentioned here), trying to follow whatever is left of previous tire tracks along my way.
As Chet Baker croons between sexy trumpet breaks, I think of how this year has truly tested us all to our limits, and how this drive is really no different. It almost feels as though the bouts of anxiety between the months of March and now have truly prepared me for this moment. As my car essentially glides over slick ice and snow, I think about how just months ago most of us thought that this virus would pass fairly soon. A full year since the outbreak surfaced, we now live in a state of fear, panic, and an invasion of privacy and freedoms that have been more or less normalized.
It’s past 2am and I’m not even half way. I see cars on the shoulder that have stalled with their emergency hazard lights on, some others driving cautiously with their hazards, and veering out of control even at their much slower speeds. I wonder how far they have left to go. Much like the few remaining days of this year, even a modicum of relief seems further away than any of us would like. But of course, idealism is a luxury that only a select few have in any regular year. This year seems to have only really benefited a handful of corporate juggernauts whose companies soared into profits while most others bled out.
In January, we narrowly avoided what was being deemed as the start of a potential third world war with a particular orange commander-in-chief grossly overstepping his bounds. In response, the country involved “accidentally” shot down a passenger aircraft out of the sky. Around the same time, parts of Australia were literally burning. We lost a basketball legend, his young daughter, and innocent others in a tragic helicopter crash. Those were only few of the markings of a much more tragic year ahead. I mean, that was only the events that occurred in January. The months that followed only highlighted more tragic news.
In short, it has been a nightmare of consistently horrible news cycles that have not yet ceased. Most of the news, of course, was centered around the numbers of the dead and infected around the world. By this time, the number of cases have grown to nearly 80 million worldwide, with over 330,000 deaths in the US alone — the highest count.
At best, the pandemic has highlighted oversights and shortcomings across systems around the world that have left the majority of people questioning how advanced we truly are, or how prepared we really are for anything.
As medical supplies and protective equipment ran short in even the wealthiest nations in the earliest days of the outbreak, we learned rather quickly how resources and funding have been so fickle in regard to healthcare. The pandemic has revealed a lot about our general shortsightedness that has been a result of cutting corners and not spending critical dollars where we need to most.
Much like a lot of the drivers on the road during this storm who don’t have winter tires.
At some point when passing through Etobicoke, near Weston Road, I decide to turn off traction control to restore a sense of control that has been absent for much of the year. It’s a small gesture, and meaningless in the grander scheme of things, but I find myself wanting to rely on my own senses and my feel for the road between my right foot and hands gripping the steering wheel.
As I slug behind an eighteen-wheeler approaching the Hurontario exit, a black Chevrolet Cruze decides to merge in front of me, which I slow down to allow. The truck marches on as I slow into a deeper crawl, but the Cruze seems hesitant to merge. I honk to indicate the go-ahead, and just as I do I notice that its wheels are spinning without avail as it struggles to merge through the snow, without winter tires. Immediately, I find a sense of gratitude for the life I live. First, for having winter tires, and second, for having the courage to be hopeful for the future. The driver switches on their hazards for a moment, I wait cautiously as the car merges and finally wobbles itself straight after a few attempts and continues onward.
It’s like this sometimes, I realize. We might stumble. We might slip, lose control. Sometimes we need to park to the side and other times we may need to put on our hazards to indicate that we’re moving a little slower than others expect us to go. In the end, the goal is the same — to reach our desired destination. It might take a little longer than anticipated, and we might even need to take some detours along the way. All this is to say that things will get better in time. Although, how much time is really anyone’s guess. Things will improve, the economy will recover, and although things may never quite look the same as before, life will go on. Mostly because it has to.
So despite what this year has thrown at us, one fact remains a constant. That much like when we’re on a highway, despite the obstacles, the only direction for us to go is forward. And if you need a soundtrack to help ease your nerves, listen to some jazz.
Follow Naveed Khan on Instagram and Twitter — his work can also be found at www.naveedk.com.
