Getting Home in the Snow

My car’s dashboard has a light to tell me I’m skidding, as if the car’s actual skidding wouldn’t be enough indication, and the light was on all the way home from the movie theatre as approaching cars waved their uncertainty at me, getting hit and hitting something being parallel and paralyzing risks, so I turned the steering wheel slowly so as not to skid into the curb where the snow was drifting, the car wanting to go places I wasn’t aiming, signal your intentions, my dad said when he taught me to drive, but my intention varied from my car’s so my choice was to simply ride it like I might a stable horse who knows his way back to the barn.