Growing up in Oregon, where sheep outnumber people, winter can feel like an endless purgatory. To survive, we had to create our own fun. One unforgettable Friday night, my friend and I turned my truck's floor mats into makeshift sleds. It was a wild ride, and we lived to tell the tale—just barely.
It's a frigid Friday night in a small Oregon town, deep into the seemingly eternal month of February. The temperature has been stuck in the single digits for what feels like forever. Night falls before I even leave work, my gas bill looks like a phone number, and a relentless mix of snow and sleet has blanketed the landscape in a dreary grayish-white. To make it through this season, I need to find my own entertainment. While I enjoy skiing, the lifts close by mid-afternoon, leaving me with long, cold evenings to fill. And as much as I love a good eggnog, I need more than just tasty beverages to pass the time. Recently, my friend and I discovered a surprisingly fun activity using nothing more than a set of floor mats.
"Tonight is going to be fun," I thought sarcastically as I arrived at my friend Keane's house. Keane is a bear of a man, usually lacking any sense of fashion or personal hygiene. But tonight, he greeted me looking unusually well-groomed. His normally unruly beard was trimmed, and his hair was slicked back with enough gel to reflect light. "What's the special occasion?" I asked as I stepped inside. Keane's grin was so wide it looked like it was superglued to his face. "We're meeting Sonya at the pub," he finally managed to say.
Sonya was a girl we went to high school with, always overshadowed by her sister. Keane had liked her for a while but never made a move. Recently, they started working together and hit it off. Keane had set up a double date without telling me. Unable to resist his pleading look, I agreed, and we headed to the tavern.
The ladies weren't there when we arrived, so we had a few drinks to calm our nerves. By the time they showed up, we were already tipsy. Keane's nervous chatter was putting Sonya off, and soon enough, she and her friend left. Seeing Keane's disappointment, I suggested we go outside. I noticed a steep hill behind the tavern and remembered our childhood sledding adventures. I pulled two floor mats from my truck, handed one to Keane, and we climbed the hill.
I reached the top, sat on my makeshift sled, and zoomed down the hill, letting out a yell. Keane's eyes lit up, and he quickly followed suit. His weight gave him more momentum, and he sped past me, heading straight for Main Street. I saw headlights approaching and yelled for him to stop. The car screeched to a halt, barely missing him. The driver got out, furious, but then recognized Keane. It was Sonya. "What are you doing?" she asked, her anger turning to concern. She offered him a ride home, and I watched as they embraced in the car's headlights.
Keane nearly died, but it looks like everything will work out for him. I'm sweaty, cold, and on the verge of catching pneumonia, but for the first time in a while, Oregon feels exciting.
Winter in Oregon can be a drag, but with a little creativity, even the simplest things—like truck floor mats—can turn into an unforgettable adventure. Whether it's a near-death experience or a rekindled romance, sometimes the best stories come from the most unexpected places.
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