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It was chilly outside but the sun was incandescent, a huge and welcome difference from the

previous night's storm. He walked down the slick steps and made his way to the barn.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

Alec ignored the fact that his friend, Woody, was back, concentrating on the task at hand. He

was grateful for the ease of which walking came with the boots. The loafers had been way too

slippery and the deep drifts pushed in with freezing wet slush. The boots kept his feet dry and warm, the soles were thick with tread and comfortable, allowing him to walk with ease.

He set the gas can down and opened the barn doors, using the sunlight instead of electricity for

illumination. He filled up the tank and found the owner's manual in a drawer of the tool bench. He read the quick-start option, troubleshooting, and FAQS, knowing good and well that the long-form

directions would fast begin to muddle in his impatient mind. He learned that he could begin on dry land which was what he intended to do. There was a helmet on the seat. He put it on, inserted the key, and pressed the start button. The engine turned but did not crank. He used the choke the next time—

per the manual—and the motor rumbled on, purring with the ease of a well-maintained machine.

He was apprehensive, but he would have been nervous even if he had ridden one before. That

was just his nature. He straddled the Titan, quickly adapting to the vibration beneath him. The manual had said that the throttle was on the right and the brake was on the left, and that to use both at the same time was a no-no. He gently squeezed the throttle and the Titan moved forward, a little rougher than he had expected. When he reached the snow outside the door he squeezed the throttle harder and the machine leaped forward, almost jerking completely from his grip and leaving him behind.

"Whoa," Alec mumbled beneath the helmet, wondering what he would look like if he could see himself from afar—a lone astronaut on a tundra, perched upon an insectile rover, resembling

something straight out of aTransformersmovie.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

"Damn." Even over the rumble of the engine and through the muffled barrier of the helmet he could still hear that stupid bird.

He squeezed the throttle again, making sure to grip the handlebars tight.

And he was riding—slow, maybe, but he was moving along the snow with ease, away from the

cabin and toward the woods. At the properties edge, where the trees began, he turned leaning into the curve like the manual said, feeling both front skis retaining ground. When he released the throttle and applied the brake, he stopped.

Alec looked back from where he'd come. The cabin was small now. He'd covered a decent

amount of ground in seconds.

"Wow." He grinned beneath the helmet's visor. "This is fucking awesome."

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

He squeezed the throttle and headed for the tree with the woodpecker. Once there he circled it,

but too fast, not leaning enough. He capsized and the Titan went out from under him.

He was lying face up in the snow, laughing as he watched the bird fly over him, vacating his

roost again.

On his way down Beulah Mountain, Alec recognized the spot where he had slid off the road the

night before. The car was gone—more of Tyler's doing, no doubt. He continued past, enjoying his

growing familiarity with the Titan and the wintry scene around him.