My first (or so) job was at a bike store. The boss was a sweet and nasty old lady named Pearl. She paid by the hour; if I was there at 8:30 and stayed until 5:30 I'd get paid for my eight hours (don't do the math). If I wasn't there by 8:30, I got paid for an hour less. So the morning I woke up to an inch of ice covering EVERYTHING, I rode my bike to work as usual. It wasn't easy; but I was eighteen and made of nylon and rubber. I was there at 8:25 as usual, ready to start the day. No one else was there. I waited in the freezing rain for an hour, then left a note and went home, after which called the store every ten minutes or so until Pearl answered. I was home barely a half hour before heading back, in fact under two hours "late." By then the ice on everything was even thicker.

Funny thing is, all I really remember is fighting with Pearl about my hours, arguing that I should be paid from 8:30, not docked $7 for being two hours late because, I argued, I wasn't the one who was late. She was. She didn't like that! But I'm stubborn now and I was stubborn then. She was stubborn too, but I had righteous indignation on my side. I won.

Honestly I barely remember riding on that ice ... It was annoying and interesting... but faster, safer, and easier than driving a car on it.