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Show HOT LINE FROV1 rlnlllK IBv Kurt Nuttina You wake up early on Monday and shovel 14 inches of snow and slush off the driveway in the dark. If it's the first snow of the year you might even have to jack up the car on the ice and put the snow tires on. Then brush the snow off the car; scrape an inch or so of ice off the windshield. wind-shield. Bang the heater and defroster to get them working they do, sometimes and you're off to school. The roads are a little slippery the plows haven't come yet at 7:15 so you can only move at 30 or so on the freeway. The traffic slows down by the time you reach the red light about 14th South; for here on in it averages about 8 mph of stop-and-go. Somebody's car stalled at about 9th South; everybody has to change lanes around it. You get to school at 7:43 and run to that early midterm. If you're lucky the black ice on the sidewalks only fools you once or twice but a running splat can still be painful, and embarrassing. You shake the snow off your coat, brush it out of your books and hair, and start on the test. Too bad you couldn't have spent that time digging the car out of the snow on sleep, or breakfast, or even some studying. And when it's over a friend walks up to you in the hallway with a wide grinike he's eating a banana sideways and pontificates; "Cod, isn't this snow great! The radio said 29 inches of new powder at Alta..." "Yeah, there sure is a lot of snow out there." "And two feet at Brighton, and 21 inches at Park City. Hot damn!" "Boy." "I can hardly wait to get up there. I've got some new Heads, with that advanced French no-sprain binding. Jeez, are they something. You can : really move!" (His hips and arms begin to sway, hula-style, as said friend begins to demonstrate the "Killy way.") "That's nice." "If I pull a two-five this quarter my ole man'll get me some new ski boots $92, but they're so comfortable it'll be worth it." "Sounds neat. Where d'ya usually go?" (He begins to finger old lift passes hanging from bright orange parka) "I usta go to Brighton, but that's so easy usually Alta or Park City. I've ', got a season pass at Park City." I "How much?" ! "Only $49.95, and I can go up every afternoon and ski the rest of the day." ' "Pretty fun, huh?" "Yeah. God, I love winter. I love to ski. Wish it'd snow all year," he says between chapped lips. "Next year I might take winter quarter off and get in on one of those ski tours of the Alps that'd be so big time!" "Ever been hurt?" "Nah-well, only once. Went round that big bend up at Solitude, ya know, then had to get round this rock sticking up from the snow, and I ran into this tree." i "What happened?" "Bruised my throat couldn't talk for two days and I popped my i knee out for the rest of the season." s We walk through the slush up to the Union Building. My bronzed, sun-i sun-i burned friend winces as he smilingly explains he has to go watch a ski 5 movie in the Little Theater. "Boy, I love snow. It's so pretty just lying o': there-so peaceful. Skiing's so bitchin'. Hey, where you skiing this ; weekend? Want a ride up to Park City?" A I begin to slip, but catch myself, only twisting my knee slightly as I e open the door. The blowing snow obscures the image of my friend, to only 20 feet away. "No thanks. I don't ski." |