I've eased up on my loathing. It's fun and everything, but it's just not worth the wrinkles nor the bad karma. But it's been snowing here for over a week (every day, more snow. MORE SNOW. It just never stops! Never!), and I have cleaned six inches of snow - or more - off of my sweet baby Focus four separate times.
It's fine, I'm not complaining. I actually like cleaning off all of the powder from my car. It's a good workout and it's kind of an art form. I realize that this is yet another reason to think me insane, but I feel a great sense of accomplishment when I get all of the snow off of my car.
I take my sweet time to remove as much snow as possible because I don't think that it's fair to oh, I don't know, every other person on the fucking road, to have the remnants of a foot of snow blow on the cars unlucky enough to be stuck behind it.
I know that people are generally always in a hurry, but come on. Cut it out, jerks!