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Canada dealing with window lickers...

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And, here I thought this thread was about those guys that smear a dirty rag on your windshield at stoplights and then ask for money.

But, instead, who knew that cars were rolling salt licks. 

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4 hours ago, holyjohnson said:

the Article neglected to say what is acceptable for a Moose to lick salt off of so i`m left with plenty of options.

Funny.  I just had that discussion with my wife a few minutes ago........

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As kids,  if we found a particularly large and nicely formed salt crystal in the road during the winter,  we'd carry it around and lick it like a popsicle.

Besides how many bulldozers,  trucks,  shovels, chemicals added, and being in the road for weeks,  it was considered safe.

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We had kids here licking the windows of a restaurant just to bother the customers. Then it suddenly stopped. Rumor was that the owner used roach spray on the windows. 

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18 hours ago, janice6 said:

Funny.  I just had that discussion with my wife a few minutes ago........

My Wife is Salty enough already.

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Had an elk lick my rental car in Rocky Mountain National Park many years ago. Wasn't about to stop him.

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1 hour ago, Walt Longmire said:

I usually refrain from stopping the lickers. The female lickers. Yeah, if it was a 'him' he wouldn't have even got started. LOL

Mighty gentlemanly of you!:biggrin:

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16 hours ago, Huaco Kid said:

As kids,  if we found a particularly large and nicely formed salt crystal in the road during the winter,  we'd carry it around and lick it like a popsicle.

Besides how many bulldozers,  trucks,  shovels, chemicals added, and being in the road for weeks,  it was considered safe.

And then we played hockey.

I'm sure there's no correrlation.

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My fingers and toes were permanently ruined from one time playing pond hockey.

It was a pond.  We'd take our skates and sticks on the school bus,  and later have the guy drop us off halfway home,  in the middle of a cornfield

It was a great pond,  with, usually, very thick ice.  Except for that end,  where the spring came in.

Where the spring came in,  had a hole exactly the size of a puck,  so,   of course,  the puck went in the hole.

Pond-hockey kids only ever  have one puck.  You'd think we would always be better prepared.

One guy went to dig the puck out.  Then two guys.  Then three.  Then seven of us.  At the cheesy end of the pond.  Then we all broke through.

Up to our waists.  It was  blow-suck.

Home was only a mile,  and two hills over,  with immediately frozen feets.

So...  we could just sit there and cry.  Or go home.

You get more sympathy when you cry in front of Mom.

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Ruined my pinky-toes forever.  They're still dead.

My fingers are all ruined.  They get dead-white when it's almost cold.

(but riding motorcycles at -5*, for many winters might have applied to that.)

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Mom's sympathy went as far as "Put your feet in the warm bathtub!" 

"And here's some cold hotdogs."

She didn't appreciate the subtleties of true hockey.

Like Tie Domi.

It was lost on Mom.

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Mom once came into the living room and said,  "WHY IS THERE BLOOD AND BANDAGES ALL OVER THE UPSTAIRS BATHROOM?!?"

Then I showed her my ripped-up dirt-bike-crashed back,  all covered with blood and bandages.

She said, "Well,  go clean it up."

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And 1000 times, at -5*,  we played hockey, and afterwards,  all the Moms would say, "YOUR HAIR IS FROZEN SOLID!!!  GET IN THE CAR BEFORE YOU DIE!"

That's just Mom-Fake.  They have to say that.  They don't really care.

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All we needed was a towel,  to wipe off...

And then go to the skating rink, for the next 10 hours.

The girls liked our frozen hair.

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