When we were little, these warm winter days were the best. They were the first hint of spring and we knew that after spring came summer - the most fun time of year. When I see the piles of slush outside and mud puddles I think of all of the bike riding we would do out on our double rut, pasture roads. We would pretend that each lane was one way and usually one sibling would be the "cop" and they'd enforce these rules. My brother would bring out my dad's two red car ramps and set them in the ruts. He'd then get as much speed as possible and go shooting over them. I always tried this too, sadly though, my front tire would hit the ground while my back tire was still up on the jump and I'd end up in a heap on the muddy ground. I never lost sight of my brother though. He knew all of the good bike tricks. He taught me how to stand on my seat while I drove down the road and how to brace on the back pegs and do a willy. My older sister would try to get three of us on one bike at the same time but that usually resulted in more giggles and spills than anything else. We'd ride all over in that mud for as long as we could until the sun would start to go down and we'd be reminded that the warm season wasn't quite here yet. It didn't matter, we were ready for supper by then anyway and we knew we'd made some good memories to share at the table. As we climbed into bed on those nights, the best thing we could hope for, and our only worry in the world, was that a sunny day would follow this one so we could again play out in it all day. No real lesson to be learned, just another great memory from life in the country.