Put new triple A batterys into the AM/FM strapped to my handlebar. County trucks sanded hills and stops in the wee hours. But the snow line settled up on the shoulders of the valley and the bottom's just getting a slush snow mist. Chicken Dinner Rd. As the Valley narrows, I ride on the remnants of an alluvial fan washed out from from the Great Bonneville Flood, just 15,000 years ago. Great floods leave great stones, dropped after traveling hundreds of miles, but not smooth and eon worn like river stone. Map rock is one of these boulders, come to rest on the bank of the Snake , across from greening hot springs that draw winter game. The rock has natural steps on the up-hill side. Use of my best duffer-shuffle sets me atop map rock eating a tangerine. Map Rock is one of the oldest maps in North America. Along with the likeness of sheep, elk, deer, and pronghorn antelope is a giant three-toed sloth, extinct from about 8000 BC. My bent fingers are cold and stiff as I wave to light traffic. I'll leave the peelings for the birds and head home through the picturesque vineyards and orchards of Sunnyslope. A cold, wet mourning on a bike beats puttering around the house or doing chores any time.