True story. In 1996 I moved from the Twin Cities to a job in a small town in western Nevada at 6000 feet elevation. They get snow there. My first significant storm that winter, probably 12 inches of wet heavy Sierra Cement, I got up a bit early, and fired up the really expensive Honda snow blower that Consumer Reports said was good but no one would ever need and which all the neighbors said was the thing to get. Got the driveway cleared and headed on in to work, confident in the top of the line snow tires I had had installed on our Taurus. Got to the office about 8:30, half an hour late, feeling pretty good about life. Everybody, all dozen or so, was sitting at their desks, working quietly as usual. "Where ya been?" the boss asked casually. "Clearing the driveway," I said, still feeling a little proud of having handled the necessities of mountain life without a hitch. "Try to get to work on time," he advised. "OK," I said. True story.