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Byline: Natalie Neff
The tinkling greeted me as I walked from the garage, the bubbling sounds of a brook muffled at first by the snow but reaching my ear fully as I approached the house. Unfortunately, this brook did not spring from some secret municipal project to reestablish wetlands in our little corner of suburbia; instead, it emanated from the crawlspace.
My pipes had burst. On a night with temps in the single digits, this wasn't exactly the pleasantest revelation, but alas, like ice dams and potholes and twisted ankles, it's just one of the realities of life in the wintry north.
The warmest day so far this year has maybe reached the freezing point, while almost every weekend for the past month has seen four to six inches of the white stuff blanket our walkways and roads. Frozen pipes and endless shoveling aside, winter is nonetheless a godsend for those of us who actually enjoy the art of driving. Nothing short of full Bondurant-style outriggers does as good a job of bringing handling thresholds within reach at relatively safe speeds.
I've already spent several nights exploring the large expanses of empty asphalt fronting some of the big-box stores around town, running back and forth and feeling precisely where the tires lose adhesion, then turning slow, graceful pirouettes and executing perfect handbrake ...