Well now folks if yer following this longwinded rant let me refresh your memory. Shortly after I aquired the fat doe I filled the wheel-barrow up with giblets and must dispose of them in a timely and efficient manner. The best course of action is to haul them down a 90 degree incline in a foot of new-fallen snow...to the edge of the crick yonder..using the brother-in-laws wheel-barrow. It was an excellent idea....poorly executed. One of the laws of physics is a body in motion remains in motion barring any intervention. Another law of physics is a 50yr. old rotund man probably shouldn't attempt to head down a steep incline with a wheel-barrow full'a deer entrails. Yet another fact of physics is when velocity exceeds the capability of said old geezer...one should leave go of the wheel-barrow handles..at some point in time! Unfortunatly..at my age..my body does not always listen to my brain. At some point in "the descent" the wheel-barrow was going much faster than my legs could compensate for..and my hands were wrapped around the handles of said wheel-barrow in a death grip. Also, for some reason my brain said.."Lift up on the handles of the wheel-barrow and this will slow your speed!!" Not exactly how it happened....actually. Rest assured I did raise the handles of the wheel-barrow FAR above my head..at which point the aforementioned wheel-barrow did stop as the nose of the wheel-barrow bit into the snow! At that point the wheel-barrow became a catapult..and I the projectile. Along with several pounds of....uhhhh..."stuff." The resulting carnage looked much like a B-rated horror movie. I survived the impact...I'm not allowed to borrow the brother-in-laws wheel-barrow any more. When I walked into my home The Missus merely stood slack-jawed in dis-belief. I mumbled..."nicked myself with the skinning knife."..and headed for the shower. Hmmm...mebbe taking the grandkids for a ride down the hill in a wheel-barrow is NOT such a good idea..eh? And that, as they say..is the rest of the story. Audie..the oldfart!