On the sultry summer day in August, the toboggan did not seem nearly as practical. But foreseeing the winter months of Northeastern Pennsylvania on the horizon, we knew it was a yard-sale gem. Furthermore, the sellers seemed to have been looking for the ideal buyers. Their children having grown, their faces lit up when they saw me with several of the boys eying the sled. They were obviously visualizing another generation of winter fun becoming a a reality with this man and his sons on their toboggan. I asked the price of the sled, and they practically gave it to me, charging me a minimal ammount so as to allow me to preserve my dignity. We left smiling and chattering over the fun we would soon have on our four-seater. It has not let us down, as countless times we have glided down the hill behind our house. Tonight, the conditions being just right, the sled practically flew as we took turns decending. Those who did not go would stay at the bottom and build big mounds of snow for us to blast through and get "white-out" faces at the end of each run. Yard sale 'boggan' = $10. Memories and fun with my sons = priceless.
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