Why I love snow: I grew up in a house alongside a two-mile
hill. It used to be an important road but was closed in the
1940s when a modern road was built elsewhere. In winter, the
entire two-mile stretch would get covered with ice and snow.
When I was a kid, we'd take our sleds up to the very top of
the hill and fly down at ridiculous speeds.
Nearing the town below, we'd have to crash the sleds into a
snowbank or we'd cross traffic intersections. There were two
ways to crash: you could roll off the sled at the last
moment, the sled would hit the snowbank, and sometimes fly
into the air; or you could stay on the sled and hope your
weight would keep the sled level so it would penetrate the
snowbank right, and the rider would fly up into the air and
land on the other side of the snowbank.
The beauty of sledding, the sharp turns in the road, the
crisp cold, the almost heroic ending of the ride -- these
stick in mind as some of the most exciting moments of my
childhood.
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