A favourite winter game in Atlantic Canada is"Find the Car".
One emerges in the morning bleary-eyed after a night of listening to the wind against the window. The glistening snow is scanned for traces of enamel or chrome. Then to the shovel, to the throwing, to the starting, to the spinning, to the sliding, to the driving, to the arriving . . . at Tim Horton's of course, to tell how yours was deeper than the others'. Double/double, please.