Thursday, January 8, 2009

Snow Stories

The crazy weather we've been having with all of the snow has caused me to reminisce about growing up when we would get snow. A few memories come to mind.

Every year that we would get snow, me and some of my buddies would wait behind a car with giddy anticipation and snowballs in hand. There was this one lady who lived in the neighborhood and drove a minivan. As she would drive by, we would pelt her van with snowballs. Every single year, without fail, she would stop as quickly as she could, get out and yell at us. I think the first year we tried to run away. In subsequent years, we knew exactly what she would do, so after hitting her car, we would simply turn around and sit and wait for the expected lecture.

I also remember one year, we had so much snow that the snow plows created a 4 foot median in the middle of the road outside of another friend's house. This also provided hours of entertainment. We would throw snowballs at cars and when they tried to stop, we would simply hop over the median and they could not get to us.

Sometimes, when it would snow really hard and cover all of the streets my dad would get out his dirt bike, tie on a few sleds to the back and take the neighborhood kids out sliding in the streets. Looking back, I'm sure this was really dangerous. Especially the time that we slammed into a curb riding on one of the old-school metal saucers and actually dented it as we went sliding in the street.

Another memory that comes to mind, is all of the times that we spent inner-tubing in the Tahoe Meadows. Inner-tubing has got to be one of the most dangerous activities there is. You knew it was a good time if the next morning you couldn't move one of your appendages and the snow rash on your face was still apparent. Good times.


R said...
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R said...

Amen to all of what you said. Brings back great memories of sledding down the steepest hills we could find in the neighborhood (and we had some steep ones in Oregon City). As to the danger of innertubing, I still have problems with a shoulder from a crash on a scout outing. But I keep doing it and it's the good times we remember most.

One of my favorite cartoons is one of a dad, standing in snow up to his knees, telling his little five-year-old boy that it doesn't snow as deep anymore...and the snow is up to the chest of the little boy. When you are young, snow is magical.

January 10, 2009 11:48 AM