Monday, February 26, 2007

Midwest Macho

God help me but I love moving snow. Teresa really didn't do it justice in her post but I enjoy running the snow blower almost as much as I like drinking beer. Why? Well I think it has something (everything) to do with all those years I lived In Philadelphia. We didn't own a snow blower when I was growing up and I learned to resent the snow shovel as a tool of Satan. Worse yet I resent the fact that my father could have made life so much easier. But that is a different subject. When I moved to Minnesota that was one of my first acquisitions. It was a little single stage that never ran right but it got me through winter #1. When that died I went out and bought myself a White 2 stage with all the trimmings down to the halogen headlamp. I cranked that sucker up, hit the snow running and I never looked back. Hell, six forward gears and it will throw snow 35 feet straight up!
That brings me back to the point of this drivel. Moving snow is a religious experience. We don't have a lot of space to pile it up so every new snowfall has to be carefully considered as to where it can be moved. By this point in the winter there is typically a good pile on both sides of the driveway, along the boulevard, and in the front yard. It is at this time of the year that it takes a bit longer as there is more thinking to do. It is also this time of the year that when I finish the work I can stand there and admire my cunning and forethought as the piles all fall into place. That feeling cannot be described. Is it like taking a bear with a bowie knife? Is it like driving a race car at 200 miles an hour? Is it like the feeling one gets when he's just cleaned everyone out at the poker table? Well, no, it doesn't feel like any of those, but it a feeling of accomplishment that is very satisfying. I saw a guy standing in his driveway yesterday. Clad in a flannel shirt and a bomber cap he cut a Randy Quaid Christmas Vacation like figure there in his driveway.With one hand on his hip and the other on his shovel eyes cast outward I knew just how he was feeling. It is an attitude I describe as Midwest Macho.

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