Birds migrate south in the fall to avoid the chilly, adverse effects of winter. The further south they fly, the better the conditions become. It really seems like basic, common sense.

I used that same kind of simple logic Tuesday afternoon when I set out on a trip of my own. But what I found is that such a logical hypothesis does not always prove to be true. In fact, it can be as far off as a weather forecast from a blind 5 year-old.

I was a little worried before making what I expected to be a three-and-a-half-hour trip to Murray, Ky. to cover Eastern’s first-round Ohio Valley Tournament game. After all, it had snowed a few inches the day before. But by the time 2 p.m. rolled around on Tuesday, the roads were all clear and the snow had stopped falling for a while.

So myself, and a colleague, climbed into by old, but sturdy 1989 Toyota Cressida. All was well as we left town heading west on Route 16. The skies were clear, the sun was out and there seemed to be just a little bit of a wind – perfect driving conditions.

All these thoughts were running through my mind as I entered the on ramp for Interstate 74. It was at this instant that the trip from hell officially began, and it all started with one huge gust of wind.

As I pulled onto the ramp, changing my direction due south, the wind began blowing fiercely. Snow started blowing everywhere, and I couldn’t see a thing. It was as if someone had played a cruel joke on me and taped white sheets of paper over every single window of my car.

To complicate matters, the tight-turning ramp was completely covered with packed, icy snow. Needless to say, my car started sliding sideways as its rear end fishtailed toward the center of the interchange.

Immediately I had flashbacks to Drivers Education class in high school . It was as if my instructor had replaced my fellow Eastern News reporter in the passenger seat and was instructing me the proper way to turn the wheel when encountering a skid.

After spinning the wheel a few times, I felt like Maverick in the movie Top Gun, struggling to steering his way out of a jetwash. Just like Maverick, I was unable to control my vehicle which slid right into the ramp’s guardrail before stopping.

Myself and my comrade got out of the car to assess the damage. The front right headlight was mangled and the bumper was a little detached. After a brief consultation, we determined the headlight still worked, and the trip must go on.

Back in the car we got, but things wouldn’t get better soon. As we traveled down 57, the high winds and blowing snow forced us to go about 30 miles per hour for a long stretch. We passed the time counting the dozens of cars in the ditch, as about 75 percent of the highway was covered with snow.

Finally we reached the southernmost parts of Illinois and the blowing snow disappeared and the roads cleared up. Just as we let out sighs of relief and began to accelerate our speed, down came the rain. Yes, rain.

Once we crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky, the rains stopped. After a few miles, we concluded that we were out of the woods and the weather had finally decided to cooperate. That’s when a wonderful Kentucky bluegrass blizzard decided to start. So, we drove through more whiteout conditions, watched a few more cars slide into the ditch before we finally reached the Regional Events Center in Murray.

We entered the arena in hopes that our hassels and trip from hell and been worthwhile. We should have known better. Eastern got smoked by 47 points and we piled back into the car.

The trip home seemed to be much better. The roads were clear, the snow had stopped and the wind wasn’t even that bad. We knew better than to relax this time, but when we finally reached Effingham, we determined we were home free.

That’s right about when we spotted two cars in the southbound lane that had just slid into the ditch. And just as I pointed it out to my colleague who was nearly asleep, my car turned 90 degrees to the left and I found myself sliding sideways down the interstate at 70 miles per hour.

This time I envisioned my Drivers Ed. teacher opening the car door and jumping out, but somehow I managed to steer my car to a hault. There we sat sideways on the interstate, both breathing heavily in silence.

And as I started to turn my car straight, and my tires spun slowly on the interstate’s icy surface, what happened? It started to snow.

Lesson of the story? Life is never going to go the way you plan it. The outcome of any given situation is determined on your reaction in the spur of the moment, along with a little luck. Oh yeah, and even those smart birds that migrate south every year get frozen wings every once in a while.