Quote:
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Originally Posted by Newton
Teenagers work for coca-cola and pizza  |
*chuckle*
Those days are *so* gone, cupcake. Teenagers work for cold, hard cash...and a lot more than it used to be.
When I was growing up in Connecticut - where some winters four feet of snow fell during one good blizzard - my dad had been in the army with the man that drove the town snowplow that did the streets. Now, I don't know what my dad had done for this guy, but whenever he came by and saw our driveway full of snow, he plowed it for us. The rest of the time, my dad got out there with his snowblower and did it. Shovels were reserved for those little snowfalls, and usually just for the walk from the front door to the driveway.
If you're talking serious snow, selena, you're going to need serious equipment. You're also most likely going to need sand or something to prevent it from turning into an ice terror. (One of my most horrible childhood memories was attempting to walk uphill on an icy sidewalk to the bus stop. I fell, sliding open my palms, my tights, and my knees. I couldn't stand up again, but panic made me keep trying...and falling again. Finally, after I'd reduced myself to a bloody, sobbing mess, I realized that all I could do was sit down and slide down to the bottom. I managed to get back into the apartment and scare the hell out of my mother.)
The only thing I like about California is that the absurd hill and one lane drive we currently live on has never and will never see ice or snow.