I hear dead people

As I steered the orange snow eater through slippery slopes and drifts exceeding a foot, sounds in my head competed with the engine drone. For some reason, as I cleared plow remains from the driveway front, the dead Jim Morrison was screaming:

I don’t know about that one, but it’s a great song. On two stunning occasions, the ice underfoot eliminated all traction and I soon heard Howard Cosell, another dead guy…