I apparently still have a lot to learn about Cape Bretonese, which is the official language of this fine Island. I was home in Antigonish for the weekend. Decided I would leave for home relatively early on Sunday so that I wouldn't have to drive in the dark. The weather forecast was great, some flurries on the island, but only amounting to 2-4 cm...nothing in the grand scheme of things. Once I got out on the highway I was surprised at how great the driving conditions were, I could just tell it was going to be a great drive home. Then I crossed the Causeway. At first it was just those big pretty flakes falling all around, I smiled as I saw them falling...so picturesque! No accumulation! Slowly, as I continued on my journey, the centre line started to fade...but driving was still good as there were definite tracks in the snow, and you could still see the pavement. I wasn't too worried, I still had my music cranked, and only one hand on the wheel. Then the tracks started getting smaller and smaller, and the distinction between the road and the ditch became harder and harder to determine. Then no accumulation turned into about a foot of snow, and NO visibility, and just to make things fun, it was a full on blizzard. Couldn't see in front, behind or beside me. As in, I couldn't see where road ended and where the deep, dark, cold, non-guardrailed for my safety, ocean began. Being me, I then started to freak the fuck out. I seriously couldn't see anything but snow. White snow. As I thought more and more about how I would likely drown in the freezing water when my car went off the road and plunged into the ocean because I couldn't see ANYTHING, the music was turned off, and I started the half yelling, half crying thing while I yelled at the meterologists. Who the fuck calls a blizzard "a few flurries" and describes not being able to see anything but the snow reflecting back in the light of your four-way flashers as "passable with caution"? I had a good laugh/cry over that one. Finally, whiteknuckled and panicked, I tried to pull over to see if I could just get control of myself. The cars behind me passed and I was relieved to have some sort of beacon to follow, even if it was just the very misguided Cape Breton Post van who was obviously having a hard time figuring out what way was not the ocean as well, considering we were driving on the opposite side of the road, and didn't realize this until we nearly ran into a vechicle coming the other way. I finally made it into St. Peter's after about 2 hours of driving. On a good day it should have only taken about 45 minutes. Once I could see the road, as well the ocean, and how far away from it I was, I could feel myself relax. A few flurries? Yep. Still have a lot to learn.