By Jason Giacchino                    

January '05

Snow Go

   More often than not, I find winter as a period of time that is rather uninspirational, particularly in terms of my ability to get outside for entertainment.  There are some, I suppose, who adapt perfectly to allowing the harsh temperatures and foul conditions to serve as a ready-made justification as to why they have no choice but to lounge around in their pajamas for the seven months of NY anti-summer.  However, this year the snow didn't fall until pretty late in the season (not that me or my Thunderbird are complaining) and due to the slightly warmer than normal temperatures, my spill-over motivation from the beautiful rides of fall hadn't fully shriveled up and hibernated.  With a back yard literally covered in three inches of perfectly packy snow, the idea had been hatched in my constant day-dreaming (probably at work where daydreaming is not allowed).  I would begin construction of a snow-cross track, a series of obstacles made entirely of packed down snow with which to practice the art of going air-borne and landing softly.  Indeed the white molding material required was an abundant resource and falling steadily in the cliche' snow-globe effect.

   Now just to clarify: this is, by no means, the first time my delusions of grandeur resulted in me tackling a project that is best left to professionals with heavy equipment. It is however, the first time in recent memory where my lack of motivation hasn't stepped in and forced me to give up and watch television before I begin.   At any rate, my trusty snow shovel and I began the tedious procedure of flipping loads of heavy snow into mounds, packing it down to nothing then repeating the process over again.  Never-mind the fact that the driveway itself was neglected to the point of barely being able to leave for work, having misaligned priorities is just a minor symptom of my condition.

   Slowly my vision for the grand scheme of my snow-cross track began to reduce at about the same rate as my ability to continue shoveling.  I would have to be satisfied with merely one obstacle for now.  Granted, it was quite an impressive little table top, complete with oversize vertical launch, a long downhill landing zone, and enough packed layers of snow to safely jump a car off.  Perhaps I wouldn't be hosting any downhill nationals on my track anytime soon, but at least I could, theoretically, stop daydreaming about riding and get some work done.

   Naturally the day of testing arrived quickly, twenty nine seconds after I dropped the shovel if memory serves me correct.  The bike came out of its cozy resting place in the shed, its brushed aluminum frame contrasting with an otherwise blank sheet of white surroundings.  I started slow, building what little momentum I could establish in the heavy resistance of the powder then rolling the launch.  Clearly it was going to require quite a run to gain enough speed to sail all the way to the landing.  In fact, it turned out to require even more of a run than I calculated. In other words: It required that I actually pedal my way down the street a hundred yards to gain some solid traction before slamming into the icy launch.  Surprisingly, coming up short on the landing a dozen times helped me to realize the exact procedure required to timing it perfectly (and a little road salt on the aluminum frame to boot).

   So here it is, January, and the weather man is calling for nearly sixty degree temperatures. Unprecedented! And although it is nice to not require arctic gear just to check the mail, I do feel sad that my precious table-top is wilting away at the same pace as the neighbor's snow-man.  On the positive side, this is NY and if there's one thing you can count on its that winter doesn't give up easy.  Well at least not nearly as easy as I do.

JayMoney@peoplepc.com