[A cookie (or perhaps a European postcard) for those who get the lame reference.]
Last winter I bought a shovel and a straight ice hoe-type implement. I keep them in my car when it's likely to snow or whatever. Friday morning, after the car had been sitting for over a day and a half, I went into battle with my chosen weapon, the ice tool. I vowed victory.
Over the next thirty minutes, I alternated between attacking the ice and frozen snow, and getting in the car to see if I could get out.
Plows leave a ridge of snow that end up blocking cars' exits. Since it's stayed so cold, that pile of snow had frozen, over the layer of ice on the pavement. So each time I bashed the icy snow apart, the car got a little further over the ridge.
Each time, my wheels spun, and I smelled burning rubber. I growled and grunted, trying to will the wheels more power.
I kept grabbing the ice tool and using all my might to break apart the mass that blocked me. Only a few minutes in, I worked up a sweat and took off hat, gloves and scarf. My arms worked overtime to overcome my wintery obstacle.
Thirty minutes into battle, the wheels made it over the icy ridge, swerved on the ice, found purchase on the cleared pavement, and I screamed in animal triumph. Victory was mine!
The battle took its toll, oh yes it did. At first it was just my left arm yesterday, but this morning, both arms, shoulders and back are very sore indeed. Totally worth it, though.