When I was eighteen a group of us camped out drinking all night long. It was still early spring and the temperature fell below freezing and frost hit the ground. We all decided we had enough of that shit and decided to pull out around 4 a.m., still drunk. They walked about a half mile back to their house but me, I got in my truck and took off with frost still on the windshield. Ended up in the ditch across the road and only by the grace of God didn't drive off a fifteen foot drop into the creek. Somehow I didn't get stuck, I saw faint yellow lines above me and figured it might be a good idea to go where those yellow lines were. I managed to get back up on the road, parked it right across the yellow divider of the two lanes of that deserted Texas Farm Road, turned the defrost on HIGH, and got out of the truck to try to see what I had just done. It was too dark, I couldn't see. After the windshield was clear I drove the four miles of back road back home, went in and slept it off. I got up around three that afternoon and went to see where I drove off the road. You could see tire tracks down about five feet from the edge of the bank of the creek. Yeah, that was the last time I drove without defrosting the windshield.
