By 11:00 he was in full have-to-get-in-the-truck mode. It seems that the diet Coke supply had slipped under the restock-now number. As an earnest believer in meteorologists' forecasts, I knew that we were just in a short dry time before the sleet returned. I warned him. I told him he shouldn't go. Then I told him to take a walking stick to help him back up the hill. Ignored.
It took the diesel engine a good 15 minutes to warm up and the windshieldto clear; then he was off. In no time, the sleet was back. I texted him to hurry. He said he was checking out. About that time the neighbors drove up looking for their dog. The driveway was slushy but passable. Within 15 minutes, their tire ruts were covered.
Next call: The truck didn't make it up the big hill. He drove around to the road behind the house and walked the rest of the way with the whole 24-pack of diet Coke plus another bag of "essentials." He considered all of this as a perfectly reasonable action. I still think it was crazy. Now we're watching golf. He has a diet Coke, of course.