Route 208 begins in Hawthorne, and at three in the morning during a storm it is nothing but headlights and falling white. FDR Hitches plows and clears through those hours — driveways opened, walkways shoveled down to the surface, salt laid where the shade keeps ice honest past noon. The measure of a night's work is simple: a car backs out at six-thirty and nobody reaches for a shovel. Weather comes down from the northwest here, and wind stacks it against garage doors long after the sky quits, so the route gets run twice. The truck goes back out for the second push, which is usually the one that counts.