The most pointless object in the world is a two-wheel drive truck.
As I pulled into the unplowed parking lot of the park where I was going to take the family sledding, we saw a guy in an older Ford mid-size SUV, one of the truckish-looking ones, like a Bronco. He was spinning his wheels, trying to get out of the parking lot and back on the highway.
I swung my wagon around and parked, having little trouble with the sodden six-inch mix of snow, ice, sleet, and slush that is currently coating our neck of the woods. We got out and wandered around the frozen pond for a little while, and then came back. The truck was still spinning it’s wheels.
I went over to lend assistance. Eventually, by digging away banked snow he was hung up on and improving his traction with some wood under the tires, I helped him break free.
He swore he had in four-wheel drive, but I can state for a fact that only two of his wheels were spinning.
Then again, it was a Ford. Maybe they think “4×4” means “comes complete with four wheels”.
One of my favorite parts of winter is that it gives me a reason every year to feel smug about having insisted on an all-wheel drive car. Now I can actually say my Subaru wagon drives circles around a Ford truck.