The storm of a lifetime . . . for California native

Update: Many have asked if Justine made it home all right. Here's her report.

When I was struggling in the snow yesterday, the last thing I was thinking about was how many Twitter followers it might get me. But by the end of the day, my story had been viewed thousands of times, and I had an unexpected number of emails from well-wishers in my inbox.

The descriptions of Philly's springtime I received in many of the emails were heartening – as were the assurances that even locals dislike these conditions. So I am happy to report that I got home safely last night (though I was more than a little jumpy on the drive back). And this morning, I got to work fine, too – after a neighbor helped me shovel out my car, which got plowed in.

The snow may not be welcoming, but for me, Philadelphia certainly has been.

Earlier Story

"It doesn't look that bad, though."

That's what I texted my dad this morning before I left for work. I've been trying to adopt the East Coast winter mindset - that enviable mix of skepticism and nonchalance.

But lately, my thoughts have tended more toward "Why do people live here?"

My first Philly winter has been a bit of a baptism by fire, as the man who would ultimately rescue me from the snow put it.

But I wasn't bent out of shape about the weather when the morning began or as I tugged on my newly purchased snow boots and zipped up the down coat I am so sick of wearing. I trudged out into the powdery white of my East Falls block, where my tiny car, still bearing its telling California license plate, was sitting covered in a good few inches.

As I began the process of scraping all the snow off my poor car, I gave her a silent apology. She certainly did not sign up for this when I got her in my hometown of Santa Rosa, Calif.

Luna, as my car is named, has never complained. She has safely gone across the country and back twice; she has taken me all over Washington state, Maryland, Arizona, California and now Pennsylvania as I've gone wherever reporting led me. She's been a reliable companion.

However, Luna is a Hyundai Accent: on the compact side of compact. Her engine doesn't have roaring power on a normal day.

And this morning's snowstorm was probably the biggest she and I have ever encountered.

Like every intrepid reporter, though, I had to make it to the newsroom today. So I got on the Schuylkill Expressway and headed for Conshohocken, the exit for The Inquirer's Pennsylvania bureau.

Let's note that I am not a complete stranger to snow. Though I grew up in the Bay Area, where I didn't own anything warmer than a hooded sweatshirt, I spent five years living near Seattle, where we got respectable flurries every other winter, before moving to Maryland in 2013.

This morning, everything was going fine as I neared Gladwyne. My little car was rolling along and I was taking it slowly.

Then the car in front of me switched lanes, and I saw it start to spin out. I pumped the brakes (gently), but I hit the ice and started spinning, too. As I tried to steer in the direction I wished to go, as the AAA says to do (yes, I have read literature on snow-driving, and yes, such steering feels near impossible in the moment), my car did a 180 and I ended up on the shoulder, facing the wrong direction.

Thank God I didn't hit anything, and no one else on the icy patch hit me. I essentially did a U-turn onto the shoulder, but it was the scariest U-turn I've ever made.

A few tears, a phone call to my editor and a terse conversation with an accusatory state trooper later, I was back on the road, going even more slowly - never mind the people behind me who might get mad at the Californian. Some days my license plate is a scarlet letter, other days it's a great excuse.

My editor told me to go home, but Conshohocken was the next exit, so I got off there to turn around. But when I pulled onto a side street to make a U-turn, little Luna decided she had had enough.

Her back wheels refused to move, and I was stuck.

When a pickup truck pulled onto the street, I put my head out the window and waved down the gentleman at the wheel.

He parked his truck up the hill and walked back to the pathetic scene Luna and I made. Much to my gratitude, the Good Samaritan got behind the wheel and steered her to the end of the street, though her back wheels slid the whole time.

I told him I was planning to drive back to Philadelphia. He looked at me like I was insane.

"I don't like you driving on these tires," he said. He put a finger to the back treads. They were too worn down to get any traction, he said.

So he parked the car and said he would drive me to The Inquirer office.

He had just picked up bread at a bakery to take to his horses, and he had an entire truck bed and cab full of five-pound paper bags of old loaves. He pulled one off the passenger seat and found a way to wedge it in the back to make room for me.

"Thank you so much," I said, putting out my hand. "My name's Justine."

"Mike."

And so it turned out that my rescuer was Mike Marino, former Montgomery County District Attorney and County Commissioner.

Thanks again, Mike.

He dropped me off at the Inky bureau, where my editors promptly recognized that I needed to blog about this: how the California reporter overcame the snow, the Schuylkill expressway, and some slipping and sliding to make it to work.

Aside from getting new tires, there's just one thing left to do now:

Drive home.

jmcdaniel@philly.com

610-313-8205

@McDanielJustine