7,000 feet is not that high

The mere thought of fresh snow in Southern California excites me. Accordingly, I was excited to hear that Big Bear Lake would be receiving 6 inches of freshies last week. This excitement gained momentum on its own, and a day later I was driving up to shred some of this metaphorical "gnar". Gnar as in gnarly, as in the kicking turns one will make in this gnarly substance. As I do every morning, I checked the weather and road conditions. And as expected, highway 330 and 18, the two I use to get to Big Bear, were requiring 4 Wheel drive with snow tires OR chains. Typical for this type of conditions. But upon arrival to the chain control area, basking under blue skies and clear roads, I was told that my 4 wheel drive would not be sufficient in these harsh, sunny 50 degrees Fahrenheit conditions. I was told that I would need to backtrack 30 miles to purchase chains, as I would not be let through without them. I reached outside of the window, grabbed the chain monkey by his throat, and proceeded to crush his larynx under immense pressure. And by chain monkey I mean Volvo, and by larynx I mean the steering wheel. I drove down the mountain, fueled with rage, questioning the sheer ability of all California Transportation personnel. I think my pessimism was somewhat legitimate.