Poetry in Motion

There is nothing like the promise of a sunny spring day skiing in the Canadian rockies and nothing like a 66 mustang stuffed with five skiers and their skis with four hours of drive time to generate a little fun. Some where between Calgary and Banff we passed two good looking girls in a later model mustang and we decided to write them a poem. We scrounged a pen and paper and composed a sonnet, the quality of which would have turned Shakespeare a darker shade of green than he already is, ending with we would like to ski with you.
We slowed down and the guy on the passenger side rolled down his window, I moved the car close and the exchange was made. They must have been mildly impressed or just as bored as we were because it didn't take long before they had pulled up beside us and sent us their poetic response. (score one for Canadian education) They would be happy to ski with us, we should have left it at that but flush with our towering poetic success forged ahead with yet another verse. The exchange was made and we felt confident that we were on way to spending a beautiful spring day skiing with these two lovely ladies. The girls sent their witty response back and we feverishly went to work on our third verse on completion we eased in close and rolled down the window.
Just as the exchange was about to be made the rear end broke traction on black ice and we began a slow slide. I let off the gas and made a gentle correction steering into the slide, allowing the other mustang to move ahead and out of our way. The car swung back the other way and I corrected more. On the third swing no correction would save us and we went all the way around and ended in the ditch.
I got out of the car and found no damage but our muses were long gone, a small patch of had foiled our destiny. There was no snow in the median and we pulled back on to the highway with out a push. We caught up with the girls at the ski area and I said, "glad to see you made it!"
"Yeah" They replied
"No thanks to you"