The Secret of Ferrell Savage
EVERY WINTER, ON THE DAY after Christmas, our town holds the Big Sled Race on Golden Hill. You’d think that after fifty years they would’ve come up with a better title for the event, especially since no one’s used an actual store-bought sled in the race since before I was even born. It really should be called Get-to-the-Bottom-of-the-Hill-as-Fast-as-You-Can-on-Whatever-You-Want Race.
I’ve seen kids slide down on beanbag...