It’s Christmas Day, and it’s warm in New York. Real warm. Temps hit 66°F early this morning, breaking a 33-year-old record high. People playing around the Rockefeller Center tree are wearing light jackets, if any. Somebody pointed out that the Christmas Eve forecast was almost identical to that of July 4th Weekend. If my bubbie had known this was going to happen, she’d have never moved to Palm Beach.
End times nigh? Probably. And while it’s unbecoming to complain about agreeable weather in winter, there’s one thing I’m missing this year: Snow shenanigans. That lovely, mid-morning trip to a vacant expanse of ski-grade concrete. You can romp around in an old beater or new sports car, pirouetting and ripping off powerslides, banging on the rev limiter and not worrying at all, because the local department store parking lot is empty and tire wear isn’t a thing. Snow shenanigans are the best.
If you’re one of the few Americans to get a White Christmas, go enjoy it. Take advantage. The rest of us will be trying on new socks and living vicariously through a flame-spitting Nissan GT-R Nismo and E39 BMW M5.