Thursday, February 9th, 2017, I planned to drive to New York to attend a concert. All of a sudden, a snowstorm clobbered Connecticut and New York. I thought about it for five seconds. Should I stay home or should I go? I hustled out of my bed, and I jumped in the car and jeopardized getting into a pileup or even worst. I turned on the radio; it was blasting in my ear. They said, “Stay off the roads, they are dangerous.” I continued to pursue my plan. After ten minutes, I was smacked in the winter thunderstorm. I wanted to turn around, but I couldn’t find the exit. My heart was racing, and I was praying to get to New York safe. I called my brother and he said, “ARE YOU CRAZY?” I probably was crazy and I realized that I made a mad decision, but I was dying to show up at the concert. I was handcuffed to my steering wheel and I focused on the road. I drove twenty miles per hour; I listened to music to clam my anxiety. After five hours, which normally takes me two hours from CT to NY, I arrived safety to my destination.