I can't believe it snowed in the north east!

Since when does the north east get such bad weather? And more importantly why don't I enjoy it as much as I used to as a child. While I could not care less about snow and all the bullshit that is associated with it, I feel bad for the children of today. Granted I don't give a damn about these technological dependent little shits, however the experiences that they will never enjoy due to constant fear of the dangers of the world really screwed these kids over. (On a quick side note: Your kid isn't all that good looking. To a predator it's prolly not worth serving time for stealing your pudgy and ugly over dependent leech of an offspring.)

So if I could take a stroll down memory lane to reminisce on how sacred the almighty snow day was for a kid in Southern Bergen County. As a child there was no greater joy in life than that of a snow day. And growing up in a shitty little apartment on Hoboken road, the greatest this was having a hill in the backyard. Who needs more in a childhood than a back yard with a hill! The speeds achieved didn't compare to the agility need to not decapitate yourself of the rusty guillotine of a swing set of the back yard. On the approach you knew if you didn't suck it in and get low enough you were guaranteed stiches and assured a side of tetanus. 

My fondest memories are certainly of my father. He had these fur boots that were all the rage in the late 80s and early 90s. In fact images of slores attending raves makes me think of my dad. 

Come to think of it, my dad wore outfits like this a lot. Regardless. Those damn boots were a staple of any snowstorm. 

The blizzard of '96, which was proof that there was a god and boy was he pussed at us, was probably when I realized that my old man was more insane with me. I witnessed my father perform a cannonball almost comparable to a flubbed dive performed by the Chinese women's swim team. But this lift such a crater in the front yard. A joy for any 7 year old. 

There was also the sleigh rides that went from our backyard's hill, across the driveway, through the lot next door, dodging the trees and whatever was hidden there, and into the lot of the chiropractor next door. 

(A brief fun side story of the people next door was that we never knew their names but we knew one person very distinctly, Remmie. Remmie the dog was a very small fella but boy did he have a set of wheels and he loved to run, everyday, from his owners. There was no greater wake up call than hearing a shrieking north jersey accent blast the name "REMMIE" throughout a busy intersection of Carlstadt and East Rutherford. Remmie was the man. Remmie didn't care about his owner or anyone else. When Remmie wanted a jog, Remmie got it. Then they moved and I would assume Remmie is in doggie heaven since this has to be atleast 17 years ago.) 

Shortly after that we escaped the busy area of Hoboken road and into the quiet area of first street. This is where the paraplegic man across the corner from us would call the police for playing outside after school.  However the best part of this was now living around the corner from my best friend. What could be better than moving around the block from your best friend? I can't think of anything. This opened a world of possibility. A new neighborhood that wasn't living on a major street and kids my own age. Don't get me wrong I did enjoy watching my great uncle (I think that's who he was) take a spill down the large hill outside the old house in an attempt to cut the grass. (Hence the large Astor-turf hill when looking west on te corner of Hoboken road and Hackensack street. Now you all know). But now I had Bryan and his brother Mikey. This brought on RJ, as well as the brothers Luke and Billy. Over the years more would come and go which I'm sure will be mentioned in future stories. 

This crew would assemble with mission that can only be described as assholes looking to have dangerous fun and not get caught by our parents. Snow days were the best though. The snow day would begin by shoveling out the neighbors, but only the ones you know would pay. The others we couldn't give a shit about because they were cheap bastards. Shortly after we finished half assing shoveling jobs and taking trips to Bella's for pizza to spend all the money, we decide to take the arctic trek to Lindbergh field. 

The frozen tundra that was Lindbergh field. A place that kids will never understand because the town graciously built a new school on what was the hill. The hill here was a solid 125-150ft run right off of a 3 foot wall (Pre-renovation). This was always enhanced by a small jump built of packed snow or whatever us local savages could steal from another local residents yard or garage(they were at work and wouldn't know. Plus we were gonna put it back. Key words "were and gonna"). 

So you grab your shitty plastic sled that you "borrowed" from a kid that left his unattended. What a silly goose. This was then usually followed with a "borrowing" of the neighborhood bully and his brother's brand new Christmas gifts, that they may or may not see again. (But they were assholes and had it coming to them). 

Once at the field you quickly got a feel for the events of the day similar to a creep entering a night club, that we all know he doesn't belong but attendance was low so they needed the cash. Our intellect  and open hearts quickly allowed the young and more gullible kids to catch break neck speed off the wall. This was because you needed to test the ramps and jumps, but you don't dare do it yourself. These kids needed to pay their dues and earn their stripes in hopes that you would maybe let them play on your team during a game of town-wide manhunt(and we did use the whole town) 1 round of town wide manhunt would be a weekend long event. But that's a story for another time. Back to the hill. Many a tailbone were bruised on that hill. Our personal best may be the day we saw a local was throwing away a mattress. This was then fashioned into a large group sled by simply placing te mattress ontop of 6 sleds strategically places under the used mattress being disposed of by a random party. Again this would flyoff the wall with all 8 or 9 of us, not at speed but with momentum and force. A true feat of physics if you ask me. This swift and quick trip would quickly lead to a pile of kids at the base of the wall screaming in laughter. 

I spoke earlier of the renovation which was the beginning of the end. Soon the borough renovated the field, changing the wall from tailbone bruising 3 feet to a coxxyx shattering 4 feet 6 inches. The town also installed a fence on the edge of the wall. Although installed for safety, this served as a colander for kids in poorly fitting down jackets. This was all until one of the local logistical engineers aquired a set of bolt cutters, thus ending the fence.

This is not to speak of the other hills in town. Big broad was a steep road that had a large snow mound at the base of the hill placed there by the DPW. This was also fashioned into a ramp. My crew avoided this hill along with all the hills on this side of town. We are convinced that the kids on this side of town may have been inbred. Just got a bad vibe from them over there. 

Now a days snow is more of an annoyance. The occasional snow ball is thrown at my dad, or him and I decide to play sun-miser and purchase a roofing torch to melt everything in our path. Hoo hoo!

Oh the things you can buy at Lowes...

Don't get me wrong, I have a delightful little lab mix who loves nothing more than to spend a day in the snow...and attempt to eat every square inch of it. Atta boy!

 

And maybe someday if I find the right girl to settle down with I may have my own snow days to make craters in the front yard and go sleigh riding with. Maybe.