First Fat Snow Ride Report

After all the buildup, I dare not let you down. Read on, then . . .

'Twas a glorious eve! John stopped by and we fat-tired our way acrest the silky blanket of newfallen wonder, down acrost the flowing hills of the southland and unto the den of Glen.  The hang hung heavy with calorific and culinary delight, and the conversational content was in no way compromised. After some time, we high-tailed it back up the hill, albeit with heavily heaving hearts.

Sorry about the lack of pics, but with the quality of prose at hand, do you really even need them? (Don't answer that.)

I arrived home, supremely satisfied and starved for suppination.

But Brandy brashly reminded me that first snowfall is cause for supreme celebration and how could I possibly hang that fabulous orange bike up without first taking my damn dog down to the park??

The fact that my damn dog complimented my bike left me momentarily shocked and devoid of a come-back. So back out into the wild winter weather we went.

No regrets so far. About the bike. Or the dog. I dig the dog and the bike.