Gone in 30 Seconds – A Snowmobile Widow
by Rosemary Daver
It all started one winter’s day several years ago. I was filled with anticipation…or was it fear? I didn’t really know yet. I remembered that my one and only experience with sledding had been an unfortunate one. Actually, to use the term sledding is not entirely accurate. It was more like being chucked into a snow drift with speed–however much speed a snowmobile can get in 30 seconds! So my exposure to this popular winter sport was limited, to say the least.
I had a vague idea my boyfriend’s family was a sledding family from way back, but I didn’t realise it was a way of life for them. Naturally wishing to fit in, I obligingly hopped on the back one fine Sunday afternoon and went for my first proper ride. The exhilaration! The speed! The gorgeous views! The complete and utter pain! I didn’t realize quite how physical riding could be and how many muscles were used. Later on however, I think I could probably have counted how many working parts there were in the human body. This could be the subject of a later article after some more research.
So needless to say, I didn’t ride much more after that. I have come to the conclusion, however, that I’m a control nut and can’t ride behind anybody. I am going to try on my own sled this winter. No, really, I will!! My boyfriend has decided to fix a sled, affectionately named the “Mighty Sonic”, so that I may partake in the joys of winter. Isn’t he nice?
However, back to previous winters…I soon discovered that, almost without fail, my boyfriend and his buddies would take off on a trek every weekend leaving me to my own devices. This was great! All the things that pleased me, I could do! Listening to Mozart on the stereo, watching sappy movies that would make me cry and reading big, fat novels. All this of course, revolved around the needs of our son, but that was fine. In fact, he now likes listening to Mozart almost as much as he likes The Tragically Hip, so, if you stretch it a little, snowmobiling has caused him to become a well- rounded child!
From the beginning, our son has been a snowmobile freak. The sound of one going past the house will cause him to stand stock-still in the middle of the room, his eyes big, and a huge grin splitting his face. The moment the sound dies away, he’ll go back to whatever it was he was doing. Actually, when he was younger and in the hospital a great deal, his favorite toy was a tiny sled that he refused to be parted from. Would you belive, the first word he learned how to spell was Ski-doo. All this evidence pointed to my losing my little companion the moment he became old enough to sit on and steer a snow machine. Would you believe it? I was right! A few winters ago, his grandpa bought him a child size sled so he could get used to it during the summer. Last winter, he beat Grandpa in a “race” and went on some trail rides with his dad. This winter, due to lack of snow, he hasn’t done much with it but, oh baby, just wait!
Since snowmobiling is much like driving (okay,okay, it’s much more fun!), regular mainenance is needed. And even more frequent maintenance if, like my boyfriend, you want constant improvements. Our son is now one of the “fix-it” guys at the sled shop. Alone again! Truly though, it makes me very proud to see how much he has learned and how much fun he has being one of the guys. Wrenching and Ravel, quite the combo!
There had been a lot of discussion a few springs ago about whether or not sledding across water would be a good idea or not. Of course they’d seen watercross on television, in magazines and a few enterprising souls had actually done it to moderate success. Finally my boyfriend decided he’d work on and adjust his machine for just one pass across the slough. Did it end there? No. So for almost each weekend this summer, people would gather on the banks to cheer him on. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but everyone had a great time. This was when I realized that I was a snowmobile widow again. In the summer? Oh well! Actually, I discovered that a lot of fun could be had on a trip out to the lake and I remember the feeling of exhilaration when someone made it all the way across.
This hobby, however, involved a little more work on my part since waterskipping is not exactly a clean undertaking! However, I still made the most of my “alone” time so the work didn’t matter too much! Some local wives and significant others pondered the wisdom of creating a little club but we couldn’t agree on a name. We are accepting suggestions!
My final comments: if one is enterprising, a snowmobile widow can have a great time! So if snowmobiling isn’t really your thing, don’t worry about it. You can always get in touch with me and let me know what you think about an organization for the snowmobile widows of North America and beyond!!
Published in December, 2002