A Taste of Winter
I can’t complain.
I haven’t seen much snow this winter.
There was a storm while I was away playing golf, but other than that:
Nothing!
Until Thursday.
“Bah!” I said as I cleaned off my car.
“This sucks!” I cried out as my forehead froze as I headed towards the construction site.
There were four guys huddled around a little torpedo heater eating soup that they plucked off the coffee truck.
“Having fun, old man?” A youngster asked.
“This blows,” I said.
They laughed.
“Imagine working in it,” one of them said.
They’re so funny.
Thing is, most of them enjoy doing things in the cold. They hunt, ski, and ride snowmobiles.
Dopey bastards.
“You don’t ride a sled?” Another guy asked.
I told them my story of the last time I got on a snowmobile.
“I was riding with my brother and I was freezing. They were all driving way too fast and I was hanging way back. I finally caught up to them and my brother handed me a mason jar filled with beer. It was frozen.
“I asked my brother, ‘You think this is fun?’”
And that was it!
I retired from riding.
They called me a baby.
“I might be a baby,” I said. “But I’m warm.”
Actually, it’s hard to believe that it’s only been 3 weeks since I was riding in a golf cart and sweating.
Seems like 5 months.
Ah well.
Only another month of crap.
I haven’t seen much snow this winter.
There was a storm while I was away playing golf, but other than that:
Nothing!
Until Thursday.
“Bah!” I said as I cleaned off my car.
“This sucks!” I cried out as my forehead froze as I headed towards the construction site.
There were four guys huddled around a little torpedo heater eating soup that they plucked off the coffee truck.
“Having fun, old man?” A youngster asked.
“This blows,” I said.
They laughed.
“Imagine working in it,” one of them said.
They’re so funny.
Thing is, most of them enjoy doing things in the cold. They hunt, ski, and ride snowmobiles.
Dopey bastards.
“You don’t ride a sled?” Another guy asked.
I told them my story of the last time I got on a snowmobile.
“I was riding with my brother and I was freezing. They were all driving way too fast and I was hanging way back. I finally caught up to them and my brother handed me a mason jar filled with beer. It was frozen.
“I asked my brother, ‘You think this is fun?’”
And that was it!
I retired from riding.
They called me a baby.
“I might be a baby,” I said. “But I’m warm.”
Actually, it’s hard to believe that it’s only been 3 weeks since I was riding in a golf cart and sweating.
Seems like 5 months.
Ah well.
Only another month of crap.
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