Few things define the difference between childhood and adulthood more than the presence of snow. When the author was a kid, to get a snow day was a pure treasure. He shouldn't gripe too much about that, though, because at least it prepared him a little for adulthood, when snow is usually more of an inconvenience -- if not an outright hazard. And then, in March, it all ended. It got warmer, the snow melted and life eventually returned to normal. He had grown used to a new level of risk applied to something as banal as a morning commute, and once that was gone, everything felt a lot safer.