Sometime with snow on the ground, I was skiing with
(e:holly) and her family, namely Cintra and Big Momma. The trails wound around a lake (kinda like the lake in our own Delaware park). Big Momma wasn't actually skiing, she was riding a snow-mobile, following behind us. It was great fun. Cintra led the way, calling back encouragement. We got to the top of a hill and looked around, the next bit would be a tricky steep decent (which has always been the most fun, partly becaue of the harrowing risk of death). The scariest part was that at the bottom was the lake, frozen over, but one never knows... Cintra takes off, sweeps down the hill, goes about five feet onto the lake and swings back to the bank. Perfect.
(e:holly) goes with similar gusto. My turn comes. The wind rushes by, trying to tear my eyes from the tips of my skis. I manage well enough. Ten feet or so out atop the ice. Big Momma's turn comes. This will be very tricky. We start to yell advice to her, but it's too late. With a maniacal/hysterical grin she slides her growling monster over the lip. She's at the bottom in no time. She keeps going. And going. She's halfway to the middle of the lake when she finally starts to turn the thing back towards shore. We're all screaming and scared to death. The crack makes all of us jump. Within seconds the ice has splintered, it seems that she will make it, but slowly she is sucked backward into the lake. It's not as bad as we feared, the lake is only about three feet deep. We're wondering what to do when we hear the garbled roar of the snow-mobile's engine. She's gunnin' it. The snow-mobile finds traction on the bottom and the ice is cracking in front of her. We stare in amazement as Big Momma forges a path to the shore, still grinning from ear to ear. She pulls up to shore and we pull her off her beast. With a calm look she's says simply, "I'm done."