The Snowmobile That Couldn

The Snowmobile That Couldn’t

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (approximately 307.4 miles north of here, if you’re in Chicago), there lived a man and his family and his friends and their family. And it was good. His name was Brett, and Brett was his name. And he worked of the land, and it rewarded him. But as the seasons changed, the snow hath fallen, and he knew it was time. He called a meeting among the kinsmen and he spoke to them. It was diligent, saith he, that they take upon their snow wagons, and head over to Bauers Dam. And this presented an adventure. And so it happened: Brett, and the kinsmen of the south headed even farther north until they arrived upon their destination. Whereupon their arrival, the kinsmen were in a quandary. There lay before them a sea. However, it was not a sea as you may see a sea, but a sea as a lake is a sea. It was small, but it was an ocean as a sea is an ocean. And then Brett spoke: “We will cross the ravine.” And so it was. In order, from shortest to tallest, the kinsmen proceeded to cross. They brought their wagons up to speeds not reached by the greatest number of asses. And they crossed the chasm of water briskly. But a young kinsman, Neal, remained and spoke: “You do not need to accrue these speeds. It is foolish. You only need to gain momentum enough to pass over the water.” The kinsmen who had previously crossed looked at Neal rashly. He used his methods to cross. And as he crossed, his wagon oscillated upon the water as a presidential candidate oscillates between his positions, until finally the vacillation was no more. He had sunk to the bottom of the stream, and to the bottom he had sunk. And the kinsmen

jumped in to save him, and so they did. They took him and his wagon from the water. And so they took him, man and vehicle, from the water. And they looked upon him and his foolish ways with naught. They left him to dry as they returned the wagons. For the wagon, haven fallen to the chilled waters was cold, and filled with the sands of the sea. They rinsed out the sands and attempted to remedy the wagon. The wagon needed to be returned but was in no such condition to do so. They rode that wagon to be returned and so it was. The owners of the wagon had not known the extent to which it had been ruined. And so it was. The kinsmen returned to the land to harvest for the new season. And it was good.