Weather: Temps are down, snow is packed hard
Trail Conditions: Very Good
Merry Christmas Eve Morning everyone. I don’t have a lot to say about trail conditions right now. Not many bilers around, they are all at home getting ready for Christmas and then heading up here the 26th. The snow situation is what it is, it would have been nice to get what was forecasted for us the last week but it didn’t come. Don’t fret, we are good to go, trails are in very good shape. Hopefully we will get it next week to give the trails a refresh after a bunch of you put on some miles.
I was kind of bored tonight so I wrote (or revised) you a little poem………
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the trails
Not a snowmobile was running, not even the for sales;
The helmets were hung by the doorway with care,
In hopes that more snow would snow be there;
The bilers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of snowdrifts danced in their heads;
And Becker in her Nightie, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a five hour nap,
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the bathroom I flew like a flash,
Tore open the toliet and flushed down my stash.
The webcam on Porkie and the new-fallen snow,
Gave a hint of good riding to the trails below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a line of ski-doos and an Iowaian on a John-deer,
With idiots racing so loud and so quick,
I knew in a moment they must be Bret & Nick.
More cuss words and threats out my mouth they just came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Bret! now, Nick! now Dave and Ted!
On, Miller! on, Karl! on, Joel and Drunk ass Fred!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now get away! get away! get away all!”
As smoke on the street and like a wild hurricane they flew,
When they meet with an snowbank, next to you know who;
So up to the highway the biliers they flew
With the sled full of ice chunks, and old Tom Miller too—
And then, in a roar, I heard on the street
The start of another drag race with two starting to meet.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the street George from the Hoop came with a bound.
He was dressed for the cold, heavy boots and some gloves,
Everyone knows a good drag race he loves;
A bundle of tools he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a mechanic just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His hands raised in the air like the starter of a race,
I knew it would be cool to see the sleds keeping pace;
The last race was about then over,
when the cops came in a Range Rover;
He was kind of nice and had a big round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave the ok, the biliers had nothing to dread;
The sleds took off quickly, smoke and sparks all the way,
The one on the left hit a bump and started to sway.
The biliers then vanished, probably going back to their house,
Becker just yelled at me and called me a louse;
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”