Three in the morning on the Route 28 corridor, streetlights orange, nothing moving, the blade throwing a curl of white toward the shoulder — that is when Salem gets dug out. Big Guns Snow Plowing runs driveways and lots through the dark so the people living between the state line and Salem Depot wake up to bare pavement and somewhere to put the car. Storms shoulder into this town sideways: heavy wet snow one week, dry squeaking powder the next, and each one wants a different pass. The work is plowing, stacking the banks where they will not block a sightline, and shoveling walks and steps so nobody has to guess where the edge is. By the time the first commuters reach I-93, a cleared drive looks like the storm simply never came.