In the Snow and Ice. I find riding on ice more than odd, scary. Riding on three to six inches of dry squeaky snow is a fun unique dance. Finding ice is a drag. As I said, riding ice on my '68 Schwinn Camelback is not my preferred activity.
Snow is entirely different.
I love the crunch of freshies under my tires, the smell, and the way light bounces and glows off the old Victorian buildings in town. I follow my tracks back home through fat snowflakes lit only by the corner street lamp and warmed by a few pints. It's feels like a thick, damp surreal world. A very dense place where everything's muted, muffled. I stop to hear the quiet, or the noise, and see.