Snow's lovely, but slush isn't. As a general rule.
Thus, at least, spake this unit you call Nighthawk.
There it was, in our lovely Croatian capital, this Nighthawk-unit. Twas waiting for bus no. 234, which makes its rounds every 25 minutes, except when it doesn't. Apparently, snow is a bus-deterrent. The bus was either a bit late or time melted as the unit Nighthawk's circuits froze. All it remembers is the temperature dropping, the wind scatting Jethro Tull's "Dogs in the Midwinter" and the first few flakes earnestly kamikaze-ing to the ground.
The rest is 01110011011010010110110001100101011011100110001101100101.