It was the winter of 1968. We were visiting with some friends in the village of Viernheim, near Mannheim. There was about three inches of snow on the ground and things were pretty slickery. Talking about the weather and winter fun and games got some of those present to get nostalgic for a sled and a hill. The problem was that we didn't have a sled, and between Weinheim (about 6 or 7 miles east of us) and the hills on the other side of the Rhein River west of us (12 to 15 miles), there just weren't any hills to speak of. But we were young and energetic and imaginative and now we had a mission. James pointed out that there was an overpass just outside of town and it was built up with steep banks on each side of the approach...A HILL. All we needed now was a sled. In the courtyard outside their apartment there was a VW square-back wagon. It was out of commission and the hood was resting in place, but was not connected to the car. It was heavy and awkward, but it was sort of shaped like a sled, if you turned it upside down. We had a SLED. We drew a lot of attention from town folks as we pulled the hood down the street to the edge of town, across the field to the highway, then up the ramp of the overpass. But once in place, it functioned perfectly. Welllll, almost perfectly. It was heavy and difficult to get back up the hill once you slid down. It had a tendency to "stick" its nose, causing it to flip up and over if you didn't keep enough weight in the back. And if you had more than three bodies on board, it didn't want to move at all. But these were minor problems and we worked around them. I think it was on MamaCharlie's second or third ride when it started to tip over endwise;  she was catapulted off to the side. Normal impulse: thrust out your arms to break your fall. It this case it resulted in snow being packed up into her sleeves and causing some impressive, surprised shrieking...then hilarious laughter.  Sledding was over. The trip back to the courtyard was a little subdued compared to the trip out- we were cold and exhausted- but some hot chocolate and cuddling for warmth brought a return of high spirits. I know, it is a simple little story, not much point to it, but it remains one of my favorite memories of our life in Germany, being young, and MamaCharlie.