Chapter 1: Setting Out
Our day began with a straightforward plan: my wife, my son, and I would drive to Princeton, New Jersey, to capture a few photos on a roll of Portra 400. We’d heard winter storm alerts, but we’ve learned to take weather warnings with a grain of salt. The trip felt like it would be a typical day of wandering around a charming town, snapping shots of interesting architecture, and heading back before nightfall. By late morning, the snowflakes had started drifting down. They seemed light and playful, more decorative than dangerous.
Chapter 2: The Early Stop
Our first stop was a small gas station just off the main highway. Snowflakes danced under the bright neon canopy, and I couldn’t resist taking a few shots right there. Film photography forces you to be intentional, so even a gas station can become a visual treasure. My wife popped inside to grab some hot drinks, while my son fiddled his Spotify, searching for a song that matched the atmosphere outside.
When we pulled back onto the road, the flurries were a little heavier. Nothing too intimidating, just enough to give the car windows a light dusting. The plan remained the same: reach Princeton, shoot a few scenic spots, then return home before dark.
Chapter 3: The Chapel and the Curb
Our main target in Princeton was a chapel known for its beautiful stone arches and stained-glass windows that perfectly catch the winter light. The drive there was smooth, with only a few extra minutes of travel time due to the increasing snow.
As I tried to parallel park near the chapel, I misjudged the position of a sharply angled curb. The sudden jolt echoed through the steering wheel, followed by the dreaded beep of a tire pressure warning. Rolling down the window, I heard the unmistakable hiss of air escaping. Winter storms and flat tires aren’t a friendly combination, so I hopped out to assess the damage.
The curb’s pointed corner had sliced into the tire. In the biting cold, with wind gusts tossing snow in every direction, I knelt by the wheel to swap on the spare. My wife stood over me, holding an umbrella to shield us from the swirling flakes. For anyone unfamiliar with heavy snow, it’s a bit like rain, except it soaks through clothes more slowly but chills you faster. Within minutes, my fingers were numb. Every twist of the lug wrench felt like it took twice the effort.
Finally, we secured the tiny spare, feeling only slightly relieved. These narrow tires are never confidence-inspiring, especially when the weather is turning harsh. Back in the driver’s seat, we blasted the heater and tried to settle our nerves. “Now we were just hoping the snow didn’t get worse.”
Chapter 4: The Snow Got Worse
Not long after we left the chapel, the snowfall intensified into heavy sheets that clung to the windshield. The roads became a blur of white, and my speed dropped to a cautious crawl. Visibility shrank, with swirling flakes reflecting in the headlights. I recalled those internet videos of cars sliding uncontrollably on ice, smashing into each other. Thankfully, we saw no accidents that day, but the thought alone was enough to set me on edge.
My son peered quietly out the window, and my wife remained calm as I navigated each turn with exaggerated care. Every tap on the brakes felt like a gamble — would the spare tire grip, or would we slide? Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, we made it far enough into town to look for a solution to our tire dilemma.
Chapter 5: The Search for a Tire
We passed one tire shop with a flickering neon sign that looked promising. I tried to photograph it, but I was driving, and a Manual Focus camera isn’t for that. But anyway, it was closed, probably lost in the snow’s relentless assault. Pressing on, we found a PepBoys: a practical chain, not exactly the charming vintage place I might have liked to photograph.
Inside, I explained our situation to the clerk, who politely informed me that our specific tire size wasn’t in stock. The damage was too severe for a patch anyway. With the storm strengthening, it was clear we couldn’t drive all the way home on a flimsy spare. We had no choice but to find lodging for the night.
I tapped through hotel listings on my phone, eventually booking a nearby Hilton Double Tree. So much for a quick day trip, our simple outing turned into a multi-chapter adventure, even if it wasn’t the one we’d planned.
Chapter 6: The Blizzard Beckons
By the time we checked into the hotel, the evening had settled in. The storm was not in full force, but the snow was already there. Snowdrifts piled against the curbs, and the few cars still on the road cautiously crept by. My wife and son were relieved to get out of the cold and made their way to our room.
One hour later, the snow was back, and I, on the other hand, felt an urge to venture back out with my camera. There’s a unique magic to nighttime snow photography. Streetlights take on a halo-like glow, and empty roads provide a silent stage for drifting flakes. It was time to change the Portra 400 to an 800, which I conveniently had in my bag.
Driving on the spare tire was nerve-racking, but a part of me couldn’t resist capturing these rare scenes. Ideally, I would’ve had Cinestill 800T, especially because I knew where I was going with my thin spare tire: to a Gas Station.
Chapter 7: Encounters at the Pump
Eventually, I spotted another gas station where two attendants stood bundled in thick coats under the fluorescent canopy. This is New Jersey, after all, where full service is still a thing. I pulled up, camera ready, and explained I was just an enthusiast shooting film. They seemed amused, maybe because it was such a wild time to be out taking pictures, especially on film.
And here, film photography strikes again! When people realize you’re simply indulging a hobby and not spying on them, they tend to open up. The attendants even posed for a few portraits, their warm breath visible against the cold, white night. The swirl of heavy snow around them looked dramatic under the station lights, and I clicked the shutter a few times, hoping the images would capture a bit of that late-night winter magic.
Chapter 8: A Noir Scene
Back at the hotel, I parked the car and headed upstairs. The hallway window revealed a scene straight from a classic film noir: deep shadows, swirling snow, and the distant glow of streetlights. Wanting to set the perfect mood, I put on some Frank Sinatra in the room, letting the smooth vocals serenade the hushed atmosphere.
But before going up, I made this picture, as I knew I could see the same scene from my window, I wanted to capture different angles, one with my 35mm lens, and another from the window, with a 50mm.
Time to change film again, as I got over excited with the gas station, and used all the 36 exposures. This time, I loaded a Kodak Gold 400.
With Sinatra in the background, I leaned against the window, camera in hand. The contrast between the pure white of the snow and the dark silhouettes of the parking lot made every frame feel cinematic. Noir photography usually relies on dramatic lighting and moody tones, and the swirling storm delivered exactly that. Taking pictures from the warmth of the hotel room, listening to Sinatra, felt like stepping into another era, a comforting, nostalgic break from the stress of the day.
Chapter 9: Midnight Disruption
Sometime after midnight, I drifted off to Sinatra’s final notes, only to be wrenched awake around two in the morning by a piercing fire alarm. Confusion set in as lights blinked in the corridor and a recorded voice urged everyone to exit the building. We were half asleep, the temperatures outside were still dangerously cold, and my son was finally resting after a long day.
We hesitated, unsure whether the alarm was real or a false trigger. After a good twenty minutes of nerve-rattling noise, it finally stopped. The front desk apologized, assuring everyone there was no emergency. With adrenaline still pumping, it took me a while to settle back down. Yet, in a strange way, it felt like another chapter in the unpredictable story of our winter adventure.
Chapter 10: Heading Back
Morning brought calmer skies. The roads were plowed, though patches of ice remained here and there. Pep Boys confirmed they still couldn’t help with a replacement tire, so we decided to head home carefully on the spare. My tire insurance would cover a new one at our local dealership, so I just had to make it back in one piece.
I drove slowly, sticking to the right lane whenever possible. In the light of day, the storm’s aftermath looked almost serene, with pristine white drifts transforming the landscape. As soon as I got home, I developed the pictures, which are shown in this post.
Epilogue: Embracing the Unexpected
What began as a low-key trip for tourist photos turned into a whirlwind of flat tires, freezing repairs, and a hotel fire alarm. Yet the mishaps led to some of the most memorable shots I’ve ever taken. Film photography has a way of revealing beauty in the unplanned. That’s why I always carry a higher-ASA roll in my bag, you never know when a simple day outing will transform into a late-night snow expedition.
In the end, these unexpected moments made the trip stand out. Sure, we spent more time managing the tire than exploring Princeton’s usual highlights. But if the goal was to capture unique images and memorable experiences, then a little chaos was the perfect muse. Sometimes, the best stories (and the best photographs) emerge when you let the unexpected guide you.
Share this post