The only thing keeping the children from thinking about the fact that it was Christmas Eve and the last day of school before the holiday was the annual magic show. The magician was performing many magnificent tricks and the students were in awe. As the grand finish, the magician attempted to pull a rabbit out of his hat but something went wrong and the hare escaped. Emerging from under the cloth covered table the rabbit escaped across the stage. The children howled with laughter and the magician became enraged. He stormed off the stage and out the stage door into the street. It had begun to snow as he cursed his magic top hat and tossed it into a rubbish bin.

"Now children," exclaimed the principle. "I want all of you to have a safe and happy holiday and I will see each and every one of you at the first of the year. Class dismissed!" Screams of joy could be heard throughout the streets as the children rushed out of the doors of the school. Several of the students stopped outside the school and began to build a snowman. George found some coal and made eyes for the snowman. Mary used a spare button from her coat for his nose. Frank put his scarf around the snowman's neck. "He's missing something," said Nancy. He needs a hat.

The snow began to fall harder and the wind began to pick up as the children traded ideas about the kind of hat that they should put on the snowman. The wind began to blow bits of paper out of the rubbish bin and a sudden gust picked up the magician's top hat and sent it rolling towards the children. "Look!" said Nancy. That hat will be perfect!" She picked up the top hat and placed on the snowman's head.

All at once the children witnessed a miracle as the snowman came to life. "Hello!" he said. "How are you today?"

The children were amazed. "We are fine but how is it that you have come to life?"

"Well," said the snowman. "It seems that this old top hat still has some magic left in it."

"What shall we call you?" asked the children.

"You can call me Frosty," said the snowman and with that, he began to sing and dance. All of the children joined him.

As the group danced and sang through the streets the happened to pass by the magician who had thrown away the hat. "Hey you children!" he called. Isn't that my top hat atop that snowman?"

"Yes it is," said George. "The magic of the hat has made the snowman come to life."

"Oh it has?" exclaimed the magician. "In that case, I want my hat back!"

"But you threw it away," said Nancy. "You can't have it back."

"Oh yes I can!" said the magician. "Give it to me!"

"The magician began to chase Frosty and the children but it wasn't long before his legs gave out. The children knew that even though they were able to save Frosty this time, the magician would try again to retrieve his magic hat. "What shall we do?" said Mary. "We have to save Frosty!"

"I know someone who can help," said Frosty."

"Who?" asked the children.

"Jolly Old Saint Nicolas can help me," replied Frosty. "I'll have to go to the North Pole. I'll be safe there."

The children agreed and Frosty set off for the North Pole. He had traveled many miles as the day became night. The temperatures had become bitter cold this Christmas Eve night and the wind was blowing fiercely as Frosty heard what sounded like a tiny sneeze. As he turned to look he saw the outline of a little girl following in his tracks. "Nancy? Is that you?" he cried out.

"Yes Frosty. It is I" replied Nancy. It was obvious that the cold winter night was taking its toll on the little girl as she stood shivering before Frosty.

"Nancy, what are you doing here?" asked Frosty. "You'll catch your death of cold out here. We have to get you somewhere warm before you freeze to death."

"I'll be all right Frosty," said Nancy. "I want to be sure you make it to the North Pole safely."

"Oh Nancy," said Frosty. "Don't you worry about me. I'll be just fine. I see some lights up ahead. Let's get you there and into the warmth."

The duo marched through the snow towards the light and soon arrived at the greenhouse. "Now Nancy, said Frosty as they entered the greenhouse. You stay here where it's warm and when I get to the North Pole I'll send Santa to get you."

Just then the door to the greenhouse closed and behind the door stood the magician. "Ha ha ha!" he laughed. "Now I have you! You're locked in the greenhouse and once Frosty has melted, I'll get my magic top hat back!" The magician laughed as he strolled away into the cold wintry night.

"Frosty, what are we going to do?" asked Nancy.

"I don't know Nancy," said Frosty. Since it is Christmas Eve, my only hope is that Santa sees us as he flies over while delivering toys to all the good little boys and girls."

Several hours have passed and Frosty has turned into a pile of slush. Through her teary eyes Nancy could see a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer as it approached the greenhouse. She jumped for joy as the sleigh landed and Saint Nicolas opened the door to the greenhouse. "Santa!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see you! How did you know we were here?"

"Well Nancy," said Santa. "I know where all boys and girls are at all times. I see you when you're sleeping and I know when you're awake, Hohoho!"

"The magician locked us in this greenhouse and Frosty is melting. Is there something you can do Santa?" cried Nancy.

"Hohoho! Don't you worry about a thing Nancy," said Santa. "I know just what to do!"

That year on Christmas Eve, Santa delivered snow cones to all the good little boys and girls.

As an ice storm began, I turned on the television to find that one of the local stations was presenting a special report about the weather. The newscaster was describing the current outside conditions and then the coverage switched to live, on the spot, coverage at the Department of Transportation.

Those familiar with frozen precipitation know that, when it's predicted, the sand and salt trucks are out in abundance, especially in an area such as the one where I reside as we get minimal amounts of the stuff throughout the winter months. If there is snow or ice on the ground and you see a truck loaded with sand or salt in my neck of the woods, you know exactly what it's for. Evidently, the "on the spot" reporter either didn't know or took the opportunity to insult the intelligence of the community with his interview of the spokesperson from DoT. As the interview opened, it could plainly be seen that trucks were being loaded with sand and salt but the reporter felt compelled to ask, "Behind us there are a fleet of trucks. What is being loaded into the trucks?"

The DoT spokesman gave him one of those "you've got to be kidding" looks before he answered, "Sand and salt."

"And what will the sand and salt be used for?"

"It will be spread on the roads to help with traction and aid in the melting of ice."

"Would it be safe to assume that the sand and salt will be spread on bridges and overpasses where ice is more likely to build up?"

"That would be a yes."

"And next the primary roads and thoroughfares?"

"Yes"

"When can people expect for the secondary roads to be cleared?"

"That would be right after the primary roads are cleared."

This news report was better than any comedy special I had ever seen. The next segment featured a woman standing beside a road that had a covering of snow and sleet. The news anchor asked her if it was slippery on the road. She responded with, "Well, snow and ice can be slippery. I'd put my foot on the road and show you what I mean if it weren't for the moving traffic." The picture clearly showed that the traffic was not moving.

The last segment was from the inside of a grocery store. The reported actually showed empty bread and milk racks. "Yes, they are completely out of bread and milk. Other items are selling as well." No kidding. People are actually buying staple items at the beginning of a winter storm? How crazy is that? Other stuff is selling too? Oh please say it ain't so!

I could stand no more. I changed the channel to an educational situation comedy rerun. Now my power is out due to the storm so I'll just pour a glass of milk, toast some bread and go outside to put my foot in the road to see if the ice is slippery. Just as I thought, it's pretty treacherous. Here comes a big yellow truck. I wonder what that is he's spreading on the road.

Once a year my wife and I take a trip to an adjoining state to visit relatives. On a recent trip we stopped to eat at a restaurant. It has been our experience that many restaurants serve food on a hot plate so to insure that our three-year-old son doesn't get burned, we ask that his meal be served on a cool plate. However, when my wife asked our waitress if they could serve my sons order on a cool plate, our server informed us that they didn't have any cool plates.

"You don't have any cool plates?"

"No ma'am," replied the server and she turned around to walk away.

"Whoa!" exclaimed my wife. "Hold on a second!" The waitress stopped and turned around. "Do you mean to tell me that every plate you have is hot? You don't have any that are cool?"

"Ohhhh!" said the waitress. "I thought you meant cool as in 'neato.'"

"You know, a cooool plate man."

Anyway, I don't really want to write about that but it appears to be too late. Several hours later we were getting what I thought was close to our destination when I entered a mountain tunnel I hadn't traveled through before. Thinking that I had missed my exit, I pulled off at the next exit to ask for directions.

I entered a convenience store and asked one of the two clerks, "How far am I from Pulaski, Virginia?"

"Pulaski? Hmmm. Pulaski." She turned to her co-worker and asked, "How far is Pulaski from here?"

"Oh it's about an hour and a half going south."

"You are kidding me," I said. Do you have maps of Virginia?

"Yes, we have maps but I'm pretty sure it's an hour and a half south of here. I can sell you a map if you'd like"

Instead of giving me the map, the clerk opened it and started looking for Pulaski. I tried to no avail to explain that it would be easier to find Pulaski by using the index.

A man walked in to the store and the first clerk said, "Hi Charlie. Hey, you've lived here all your life. You probably know where this gentleman needs to go."

Charlie said, "Where is it he's needs to go?"

"He's looking for Pulaski."

"Pulaski? Hmmm. Pulaski. Is that in Virginia?"

"Yes," I responded.

Charlie, looking perplexed, scratched his head as he said, "Never heard of it."

The clerk continued to fumble with the map as my wife and I picked up a few drinks and snacks for our hour and a half ride to Pulaski. My wife spotted a UPS delivery man and said, "Excuse me sir, can you tell us how far we are from Pulaski?"

"Sure. Let me just show you on the map back here on the wall. Go south for about ten minutes then get on Interstate 81. Drive about ten more minutes and you're there."

We put our snacks back on the shelf. We left the clerk fumbling with her road map as Charlie scratched his head.

These days, the chat rooms of the Internet have largely replaced CB radio communication although they are still widely used by the trucking industry. In the early 1990's, before most people had even heard of the Internet, I traveled from North Carolina to Florida with a couple of friends to help one of them move. The move took us three consecutive weekends using two vehicles and to keep us from getting bored silly, we used Citizen Band radios to communicate. We soon discovered the world of the trucker and found out that some of them have little patience with three guys playing around on their channels. Unfortunately for them, this fact only intrigued us and gave us more of a desire to "play" on the trucker channels.

Before I continue, let me state that I have nothing but respect for the men and women who make a living hauling goods from one point to another. If it weren't for these folks, our commerce system would not be what it is today. When these folks don't work, people don't eat, stores close and businesses run out of supplies. My hat is off to these folks. However, the CB or Citizens Band radio is, as the name implies, for citizens. Since I have been a citizen all of my life, I have as much of a right as anyone to broadcast on the public airways. Sometimes the urge to humor ourselves was overwhelming especially when running across a trucker who took his CB too seriously.

Most of our antics were just silly things like describing every move we made. "Breaker one nine. Breaker one nine. Changing lanes. Changing lanes, or "Breaker one nine. Stopping to pee." On occasion we might act as if we were fighter pilots, "Banking left forty-five degrees."

"Roger that. Banking left to avoid your wash."

I found out quite by accident that if you are beside a truck with a CB and you broadcast, the signal the trucker receives will sound like it is about to blow his ears off. Not knowing this, I asked a trucker where a particular exit was. He responded with, "Turn down your power on your radio. You're about to blast me out of my cab."

"I can't turn it down." I responded. It just so happened that I was using a walkie-talkie that didn't have any power controls.

"If you don't know how to use your radio, get off the air!"

Now, I took great offense to this seeing as how I had every right to use my radio. Our traveling companion, driving in the car behind us, spoke up, "Don't listen to him. You aren't coming in too strong. You sound just fine to me" My friend's car was just as close to the truck as we were, so it would be safe to assume that his signal was equally as strong to the trucker. I must say that I thought my friend's transmission was going to blow out the speaker in my radio.

"Oh great!" remarked the trucker. "Now there are two of you (insert long string of expletives here.)

"If you wouldn't mind sir, could you repeat that? Your signal is a bit weak."

The trucker started flailing more expletives and as soon as he finished, "I'm sorry could you repeat that? Your signal is weak" This series of events went on for a few minutes with the trucker never knowing that we were broadcasting from beside him. It was obvious to us that he was getting hot under the collar.

A few other truckers were laughing at the scenario and egging us on while encouraging the truck driver to place his foot in our gluteus maximus using a swift forward motion. We sort of encouraged it as well.

"Why don't you just pull over at the next exit and we'll just settle this issue there."

"I ain't wasting my time on you. I have a schedule to keep and a load to deliver."

We expressed our concern that he was showing a general lack of courage and even stated that his manhood may be in question. The challenge having been made and because several truckers gave the trucker certain insights as to the way he was looked upon by the trucking community for passing up such an opportunity, the trucker asked where we were. We gave our position as being the last exit we had passed and said we'd pull off at the next exit and meet. He agreed. As the exit approached he veered over and shot up the exit ramp as we continued our journey down the highway.

On one of our trips, we made a habit of asking each other for obvious directions. "Do you know where I can find exit forty-one?" However, the occasional trucker would answer before on of us had the opportunity so we would play with him instead.

"Sure. Where are you now?"

"I'm at exit forty."

"Forty one is the next exit."

"After which one?"

"Forty."

"Forty what?"

"Just forty."

"I didn't see an exit for just forty. The sign said forty."

"You need to take the next exit."

"What exit is that?"

"Forty-one."

"I don't want to take forty-one."

"You said you were looking for exit forty-one."

"Yes but I never said I wanted to take that exit."

"You're an idiot."

"I don't appreciate that comment."

"That's too bad you moron."

"Why don't you just pull over at the next exit and we'll just settle this issue there."