I spent the winter of 1983-1984 in Fredericton, New Brunswick, half of which lies on the flat-land beside the Saint John River, and half of which is divided between the top and side of a high escarpment. During that very snowy winter, only one traffic rule really mattered: people going uphill always had the right of way. If once you stopped on the way up, the chances were pretty good you would have to skid backwards all the way to the bottom before you could get under way again.

People turning left onto the main road heading up the hill had to take their chances ...