After watching the forecast on Friday night, I was so excited about the idea of riding the Ural in the snow for the first time. There is something so peaceful, so beautiful about the world when that first snow starts to fall. I love the muffled quiet as it blankets everything around you. There is a light that emanates from the fluffy stuff, even after dark.
All day on Saturday I waited and waited for the snow. I rode along wishing for flakes but all I got was soaked by the winter rain. I did get to glide through some huge flooded puddles near the beach, though.
And I did see a soggy snowman.
It seemed that the snow just wouldn’t be coming so I went home. Kenny, being the angel that he is, hosed down the Ural and slipped it back in to the garage.
After the sun had set, I heard Kenny say, “here comes the snow” while looking out our front door. I would be able to head out for my first Ural snow ride after all!
Before venturing out onto the main roads, I did a lap around my neighborhood to get my snow legs. There wasn’t any other traffic around as the flying pumpkin thumped along. It was just us, a lone headlight burning a path through the swirling gusts.
I didn’t ride anywhere special, just looped through our town and down by the beach. But I carried in my pocket that excited feeling of doing something new, something different. Isn’t that one of the greatest feelings in the world? It will never be my first Ural snow ride again, so I took my time relishing each mile.