It's been an icy day. I looked out at the Skelgas tank and noticed a wavy sheen and knew right away it was ice. Then up at the eaves and saw a few small icicles, like a kid's runny nose but horizontal and sustained.
I don't mind ice, but I know some of my elderly neighbors hate it. They slip and rupture a bone. Much of the town stops because of the ice, even though really it isn't that bad. The city guys have been out spraying sand and salt, the sun's beating down on it (while still below zero), and enough young people, innocents, are out it's getting some wear. Still, you hear of things being canceled, churches, grange meetings.
I was out driving a bit and went by some major parking lots of places that aren't open on Sunday. Of course their parking lots are pristine, no salt, no sand, just shiny. I was thinking how fun it'd be to go in there and brody around, a few donuts, maybe a Ralph or a Louie. Or straight ahead in a wavy line, you know, a Broken Arrow aka a Fish Tail. But then, what? I'm in there, an old man doing all these wild moves, I hit a pole, or maybe the police happen to be driving by, or young people, innocents, see me and see a bad example being set.
There was a guy right out here on the street the other night. And the street is narrow in places. But he was going back and forth, with some so-so donuts. I was wishing the police might be coming by but they didn't.