First have the plow truck not start. Then have all the tricks that usually get the plow truck to start, fail. Then, trying to save time so you can leave on time, get stuck backing car into area you would have plowed had the plow truck started. Then realize that among the many ways new cars are programmed to think for you is included some evil chip that limits the rpms so you can’t burn through ice to dirt the way you did on the old Ford. And so on. Top off with the realization that no rage is more futile or more self-fueling than rage directed simultaneously at an inanimate object and one’s own unfunny incompetence.
Later one cools down and quietly thanks one’s wife for coming out to drive while he pushed.
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