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It's a matter of luck
Around this time of year I find myself negotiating with my bike and the weather forcast. In 1997, I rode my bike to work on a crisp early December morning. That afternoon, it snowed so hard I was forced to abandon my bike until the snow melted.

Thing is, it never did melt. That year our mayor called in the army to clear the snow that just kept falling with repetitive intensity, covering cars that lined the snowbanks like wedding cakes. By the time I got my bike out, it was a rusty piece of junk with a lock so rusted shut, I needed a bonafide theif to free it (it was too junky, even for thieves).

Every year, I gamble that the big snow won't fall during the day when I am at work, forcing me to abandon her, but at home, when my bike is safely tucked indoors.

This morning, with the windchill of -10C, and a 40% chance of flurries, i chickened out. The numb fingers I can handle, but the thought of poor YumYum, with a little mound of snow on her seat, surrounded by unforgiving ice made me shudder. I am such a wimp.

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