I got to Chicago in time for the welcoming event hosted by Bridgestone. Which was better than many people could say, as the weather was preventing many planes from landing. I’m smart enough to know that flying into Chicago in the winter doesn’t make sense if you live less than 300 miles away.

As it was, the roads were awful, since it was snowing off and on and the temperature was too low for salt to melt it. I’ve never been happier to have proper winter tires on my car. In most cases, the ice was of the sort that cannot be seen, only felt. I gave my brakes a brief stab every minute or so or when the type of pavement changed, to test for traction. If the ABS clicked in, it was time to slow down, sometimes way down. My speed varied from 25 to 75.

Worst of all was a stretch just west of Kalamazoo. I sat for ten minutes because a tractor trailer had spun but, unlike at least half a dozen others along that stretch, had not managed to spin completely off the road.

A number of passenger cars also involuntarily exited the highway, including one pickup a hundred yards in front of me. He put up a valiant effort, but after oversteering this-a-way then that-a-way then this-a-way he finally slid tail first into the deep snow on the right shoulder.

The Most Clueless Award goes to the guy trailering a car behind a full-size van. He was jack-knifed on the shoulder.

I never witnessed one of the tractor trailers in the process of spinning. But every time I passed one of them or they passed me–this happened way too many times on roads where my winter tires were fighting for traction–I feared becoming a statistic. I was passed by a tanker truck with flammable warnings all over it within a mile of seeing a couple of his good buddies in the ditch. What was he thinking?

In another instance, I got an immediate strong reaction from the ABS, and knew I had to cut 20 miles-per-hour pronto. Problem was, I had a full-size GM pickup on my bumper wanting to go faster and a tractor trailer to each side of me. All of them seemed oblivious to the fact that we were all driving way too fast, in tight formation, on ice. I’ve never before been so scared while driving. I felt as if I were looking at a ticking bomb, and wondering whether I could get away before it went off.

In response, I very gradually slowed down, because slowing down more quickly would have likely caused the pickup to lose control, the whole time watching in my rearview mirror to see if the pickup was getting the message, then fell in behind one of the big rigs to let him past. I passed him a few minutes later–he must have finally had a come-to-Jesus moment that luckily didn’t kill himself or anyone else.

In the end, the winter tires were very good to have, but they were no guarantee against someone else losing control and hitting me in the process. I feel very lucky to have made it to Chicago.

If I were truly smart, I would have taken the train.