Three in the morning, and it has been coming down over Red Bank for six hours. The river is invisible, the streetlights are just cones of falling white, and every driveway in town is a problem waiting for somebody. NJ Power Wash runs the plow through it — drives and lots pushed back to pavement, walks and steps shoveled out, salt down on the ice that forms in the tire tracks afterward — so the first person out the door at six finds a clear way to the street. Snow work gets judged in one glance from a kitchen window, and the standard is simple: bare, wide, salted, done. Then on to the next one before the wind fills it back in.