sno-go
Thanksgivings growing up were always pretty good. We always had good food and my aunt & uncle & cousins came over. When we were really little, we always rode snowmachines. Even when we were young, 7 and 8, we would take off from the house driving snowmachines. My dad had taught us to be safe, we rode together usually, and hardly ever rode off by ourselves when it was too far to walk back.
I loved riding snowmachines with my dad. Two winters I even raced with him. I was the junior high point state champion one year on the oval track. When I was about 20 I went out on an all day ride with my dad and my uncle. Mt. Redoubt had erupted earlier, and there was finally new snow to cover the ash. The sun was out and it was a great ride. I remember speeding across a lake and looking over at my dad and my uncle only to realize that the lake wasn't solidly frozen under the layers of snow and ash. Where our trails should have been, open water surged up. We just kept on going, floored it, and made it to the other side. The other thing I remember about that day is that I borrowed my dad's cool little flashlight and he teased me about not forgetting to give it back. Well, I forgot to give it back. In fact, I still have it.
My favorite ride with my dad was when he headed out of the house for a roundaboutish ride to the Moose Lodge. We rode all over the flats out behind Wildwood and towards Swanson River before heading back into town for a hot toddy. When we stopped in the parking lot at the Moose Lodge, took off our helmets and started to head in when my dad asked, "What's that on your ski??"
I looked down and realized that my right ski had totally run through a pair of underwear. Huge, tighty whiteys to be exact, huge. "How the hell did you manage that?" my dad asked, "I didn't see any cross country skiers."
"Well obviously neither did I!" I exclaimed. We went in for a cocktail but to this day I can't figure out either how in the heck a humongous pair of men's briefs got out in the swampland, or how they ended up on my ski.
It's times like I miss with my dad, and the family still down on the Kenai. Irony is that now we don't snowmachine at all, we're cross country skiers. I can promise you that none of us leave our underwear behind when we go out.
I loved riding snowmachines with my dad. Two winters I even raced with him. I was the junior high point state champion one year on the oval track. When I was about 20 I went out on an all day ride with my dad and my uncle. Mt. Redoubt had erupted earlier, and there was finally new snow to cover the ash. The sun was out and it was a great ride. I remember speeding across a lake and looking over at my dad and my uncle only to realize that the lake wasn't solidly frozen under the layers of snow and ash. Where our trails should have been, open water surged up. We just kept on going, floored it, and made it to the other side. The other thing I remember about that day is that I borrowed my dad's cool little flashlight and he teased me about not forgetting to give it back. Well, I forgot to give it back. In fact, I still have it.
My favorite ride with my dad was when he headed out of the house for a roundaboutish ride to the Moose Lodge. We rode all over the flats out behind Wildwood and towards Swanson River before heading back into town for a hot toddy. When we stopped in the parking lot at the Moose Lodge, took off our helmets and started to head in when my dad asked, "What's that on your ski??"
I looked down and realized that my right ski had totally run through a pair of underwear. Huge, tighty whiteys to be exact, huge. "How the hell did you manage that?" my dad asked, "I didn't see any cross country skiers."
"Well obviously neither did I!" I exclaimed. We went in for a cocktail but to this day I can't figure out either how in the heck a humongous pair of men's briefs got out in the swampland, or how they ended up on my ski.
It's times like I miss with my dad, and the family still down on the Kenai. Irony is that now we don't snowmachine at all, we're cross country skiers. I can promise you that none of us leave our underwear behind when we go out.
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