I could write about the beauty of cold crisp night riding with 5 people under a full moon after a light snowfall. The soft swish of the snow as it passes under tires, the shuffle of unseen small animals and the wondrous stare of a deer as it takes a stop closer and tries to figure the meaning of five dancing white headlights.
I could pretend that it didn’t matter that when we arrived at the Christmas light drive thru the lights were dark, and that there was minimal conversation because it was so hard to hear through all the layers of clothing and the layer of concentration it takes to ignore the elements.
I could even say that the pain of my frozen feet and my icy upwind pinky finger couldn't over weigh the beauty of the ride. Even that I was eager upon waking up, to do it all over again, but this time take away a few more degrees.
Nope. To write all that would be to ignore the real story. There’s no getting around the fact that it’s just plain cold.