snow (standard:humor, 2892 words)
Author: audonick	Added: Feb 02 2004	Views/Reads: 3578/2431	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The meaning of snow to children and adults alike, with an emphasis on sledding.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

distance that made the hill clear.  Another factor that added to the 
adventure was at the bottom of the hill you had to make a turn either 
right or left.  The snowplow when clearing the street had piled snow on 
both sides of the street. These piles formed a wall that cannot be 
penetrated or scaled by a sled. This is not just mere opinion, that is 
a proven fact. We tested this theory on more than one occasion, and on 
every occasion the snow wall has come up big. We were ultimately left 
with nothing but a broken sled. Other interesting dilemmas that we 
faced while sledding on this hill was the patch of asphalt that 
eventually materialized and then dominated the sledding surface. When a 
sled hit a patch, unless the patch was less than a foot wide, the sled 
usually came to a screeching halt. In these instances, we usually 
dismounted the sled, and not so gracefully I might add. We then began 
to take on the characteristics of a snowball going down the hill 
gaining momentum as we went. A run my go something like this. 

“We need someone at the bottom of the hill to watch for the cars.” Brad
said. We looked around at each other looking for a volunteer. 

“If I can go down on the sled, I'll take the first watch.”  Eric said. 

“You know you can't do that.  You're taking a chance sledding down the
hill, not knowing if there are any cars coming.  Go down and get hit by 
a car, then we're not going to be allowed to sled on the hill.  You'd 
ruin the fun for all of us.”  Bev said. 

“Wouldn't be much fun for him either” I said, “getting maimed at least,
killed at best.” 

“Don't you have that a little backwards, Travis?”  Virgil asked. 

“Think about it. What would you rather be? If we get hit by a car and we
walk in the front door, don't you think something else might hurt after 
the explanation? Nope, best case scenario is to die and leave the 
explaining to someone else.” 

“Got a point there. Guess I should go down the hill first, since I'm the
oldest. Walking down isn't bad, its dragging that sled up behind you 
that gets ya'.”  Brad said.  “Remember the signals, same as the 
policeman. Arm extended, palm out means stop. When its clear just wave 
the sledder down, understand?”  We all shook are head in unison. The 
signs were simple enough, couldn't really cause any confusion, right? 
Brad ran a few steps then slid on his boots, he skidded down the hill a 
short distance. He then repeated the performance until he reached the 
bottom of the hill. The street formed a perfect “T” at the bottom and 
Brad stood directly in the middle on the far side of the street. He 
glanced up and down the street, then checked to make sure no cars were 
coming from Afton Avenue. When he was satisfied that all was clear he 
waved. The first sledder ran a short distance and belly flopped on the 
sled.  You would make a few turns on the way down to keep the speed of 
the sled under control.  Normally we would turn left at the bottom of 
the hill and go back up Penn Valley Road. Going up the hill would slow 
you down quicker. Turning to the right took you longer to stop and 
ultimately a longer walk to the top of the hill. When you finished the 
run, you would take the sled over to the spotter, and change positions. 
You would become the spotter and the other would drag the sled back up 
the hill. When done in an orderly fashion, the system worked to 
perfection. However, we live in a less than perfect world, and none of 
us had the ability to follow the simplest of instructions. Within 
minutes chaos reigned. 

The first sign of trouble came with the hand signals. The concept of the
hand signal was pretty good, but the problem was that moment of 
indecision. You would have your hand extended to stop the sledding, 
while you checked for traffic. A car might just be coming into sight. 
Right off the bat your in trouble because you're attempting to judge 
the speed of the car, versus how long it takes for a sled to get to the 
bottom of the hill. At our age, geometry is not a strong point. Things 
look pretty far away and you really aren't certain. The sledder at the 
top of the hill is looking for a sign from you. Even the slightest 
flutter of the hand is normally enough to put the sledder in motion. 
Our judgment would usually become more accurate when the sled and the 
car get closer together. Unfortunately, this always puts the person on 
the sled at a disadvantage.  The spotter, realizing that his judgment 
is in error, extends his hand telling the person on the sled that there 
is traffic coming. This signal usually brought the heart to the throat 
to the person on the sled. Sleds are not equipped with brakes and there 
is really no way to stop the sled that does not entail pain, 
embarrassment, or the wreckage of a sled. None of us are going to bail 
off a perfectly good sled until we come to the realization that it is 
either the sled or us. Even then it is a tough decision, because when 
you break the sled, there is normally no chance for repairs. We took 
extraordinary measures to ensure that the sled lasted the entire 
season, even if it meant getting ourselves killed in the process. You 
could normally share such items as bikes and such, but not sleds. The 
sledding season could be extremely short, sometimes measured in days 
and a person that lacked a sled also lacked friends. The feeling of 
fear that we initially felt disappeared rather quickly. That doesn't 
mean that things worked out, it just meant that fear was replaced by 
either one of two things, panic or impending doom. Neither was a very 
pleasant feeling. You only had a couple of options. 

First you could try to turn into a spot that a car had been dug out and
bury yourself in a pile of soft snow. This was the preferred option. 
Normally we didn't think quick enough to even have that option.  Next 
was to turn into a parked car. Wasn't the greatest of options, but the 
sled normally survived, but the sledder suffered minimal injuries 
usually received after the fact from disciplinary action imposed by the 
P's.  Another option was to suck it in and race the car, and do what 
you were going to do initially. This was not the preferred option, but 
often it produced the most spectacular results. By going for it in this 
manner we were still left with the final alternative, and although the 
show was nearly as spectacular, the results were disastrous. You would 
just grit your teeth, hold a straight course, and hope that the path of 
the sled and the car didn't intersect. You'd whiz across the street; 
the car would sound the horn and impulsively hit the brakes that would 
send the car into a slide. The sled would slam headlong into the snow 
piles that were left by the plow. Unless it had warmed considerably the 
piles of snow were nothing more than temporary glaciers. The sled would 
disintegrate upon impact. This would in turn launch the sledder. If he 
or she were lucky or light enough, you would clear the snow mountain 
and land in a heap in the other side. Should you have a bad trajectory 
you would bounce off the sides of the pile before coming to rest on the 
other side. Our final evasive method was the wimp's way out.  You would 
simply eject off the sled. Should you use this method just a split 
second before impact, this was acceptable. However, if that was your 
first option you were scorned by your peers for being yellow. To add 
insult to injury, this method would, under normal circumstances, result 
in a damaged sled. 

One of the most remarkable runs, and probably one of the luckiest, was
made by Virgil.  Ask Virgil and he would tell you he had planned it 
just the way it happened. I'd be willing to bet dollars to donuts that 
the kid didn't even have his eyes open, he was just using the force. 
Eric was the spotter at the bottom of the hill. He had his hand 
extended in the stop position. He looked to his left and spotted a car 
coming up Penn Valley Road. The car seemed to be traveling at a slow 
rate of speed.  He hesitated just slightly, trying to make the mental 
calculations. He half-heartedly signaled for Virgil to come down the 
hill. As he waved, the answer seemed to suddenly come into his head and 
he knew that the answer was the wrong one. He extended his arm to the 
stop position, but he knew that he was too late. He looked to the left 
and realized that the problem was compounded by the fact that a second 
car was coming and at a much quicker rate of speed. He started to run 
across the street to the bottom of the hill, waving his arms 
frantically. 

“Bail Virgil, bail. I'll try and catch your sled.” He was trying to talk
to the wrong person. Virgil was the most stubborn person in the group, 
and had the least common sense. He was determined that he was going to 
ride it out. 

“Man, don't do it” Eric wailed, “you have two cars coming and nowhere to
go. Just jump off. I got the sled.” Eric motioned him to get out of the 
way. As he neared the bottom of the hill, he looked to the right and 
instantly knew that Eric had been right. He also knew that if he bailed 
now, that his sled would be history. Out of the corner of his eye he 
saw a way out . . . maybe. He cut across the far-left side of the 
street and made a hard right.  The driver of the car spotted the sled 
and tapped the brakes and the car went into a slide. The second car was 
closing quickly and hit the brakes and went into a slide. Virgil was 
heading in the direction of the cars and was closing fast on a very 
solid looking mountain of snow. The rear of the first car passed him 
and he turned hard left, and caught the very end of the mound. This 
launched him and the sled. Needless to say that the driver of the 
second car was shocked to see a sled and rider heading directly for his 
windshield. At this point Virgil knew that something was going to 
happen and he closed his eyes and waited for the impact. It seemed as 
if an eternity had passed before . . . he hit the snow-covered road on 
the other side of the car. The sled came to a stop half way down the 
street. We stood at the top of the hill and watched at first with 
fascination, which turned to the cold finger of fear, which was soon 
replaced by impending doom, which culminated in the thrill of triumph. 
Talk about the emotional roller coaster, we experienced all of the 
above in a space of one minute. “I really thought that he was a goner.” 
Bev said. 

“I did too. He is really something special when it comes to luck.” Pam
said. 

“If he were going just a little faster, we could really tell how lucky
he is if he tried to cross Afton Avenue  without a spotter. I never 
really saw anybody go that far on a sled.”  Brad said. 

“I'll tell you this much. If he didn't go airborne, we wouldn't be
standing here talking about his near miss. We'd be going to notify next 
of kin”. 


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