“Winter makes everything terrible,” I thought. I was sitting at an intersection, getting ready to pull out of the grocery store parking lot, watching a little car struggle to make its way up the hill. It was covered in splotches of ice and snow and grime collected when one too many trucks passed it on the interstate on a slushy day. The windshield was clear, but there was still snow on the roof and the hood and icicles clinging to the bottom of the doors and bumper and mud flaps. It seemed to be shaking as it passed, as if to say, “No, please no! It’s far too cold to…