I get this sudden feeling between my belly and my ribs that’s like being punched in the gut. It usually happens when I just messed up in a big way. Today it happened when two wheels of my plow rig found the edge of the road, going just a bit too far pushing snow over a cliff. The front of my vehicle started to drop as I hit the brakes and reached for reverse just in time. The third close call today. It won’t be the last.

Backing up to grab another blade-load of snow, I approach the same spot just seconds later. There are only so many places to push piles of white stuff. Again and again, I repeat the process even when it gets a little scary.

When I get home, I’ll call my chiropractor about that lower back pain that keeps flaring up when I plow for more than a few hours at a time. Please, I beg to myself, let there be a break in the storms soon, so I can let it rest a day or so. It hurts.

But I can’t stop now. I promised these folks I’d keep their path clear. They, too, have jobs. Some bosses aren’t that understanding of the rural, snowy life. So those people get priority. When several customers have that same priority, my wake-up call comes early. That’s on the days I get to sleep. Sometimes it takes all night.

Why do I do this to myself? The money is all right; though more of it goes into maintenance than one might expect. I certainly don’t get to set my own hours. The snow comes when the snow comes. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all.

I do it for the elderly man who comes out early to move his car so I can clear his parking place. He tells me I’m appreciated; that he’d be in a tough spot without hardworking folks like me. I do it for the woman who has two miles of steep gravel road to traverse on her way to and from work. She remembers parking at the bottom of the hill and carrying groceries up on snowshoes in past years. I’m impressed.

There are the little moments, too; when the conditions are just right and the snow curls off the blade, flying to land right where I want it. When the surface I leave behind has great traction and retains that clean winter snow look. When a white rabbit races the snow cascading off my blade.

But really, it’s about doing a job that needs to be done. And for people like me, it really makes our day when you smile and wave or say thanks. Because like all service-related work, we do this for you.