The north end of the local pond of my childhood HAD to have resembled a hockey puck graveyard beneath the surface. The water was always warmer at that end, and the ice always too thin. As sure as God made green apples, that's where the damned puck would always eventually end up. Come spring, they'd end up on the bottom...
So did a VW BUg, under the command of a hippie... but that's a summer tale...
The north end of the local pond of my childhood HAD to have resembled a hockey puck graveyard beneath the surface. The water was always warmer at that end, and the ice always too thin. As sure as God made green apples, that's where the damned puck would always eventually end up. Come spring, they'd end up on the bottom...
ReplyDeleteSo did a VW BUg, under the command of a hippie... but that's a summer tale...