If I was crafty enough to pipe in the background music from “Chicken Run,” by God it would be playing. Alas, I’m not in the least, so you’ll have to hum along in your head. Or aloud, who are we to tell? (For those of you who don’t know, the title is a quote from the movie, too).
Daydreaming as I am as I write an eBook on a subject far less interesting than snowmobiling, my thoughts wandered to a few notable points. One of them was of the “five years ago, who’d have thought” variety.
Five Years Ago Today….
As in five years ago, who’d have thought I’d be telling Bill to “go, man, go!” on a day-off Friday to go ripping it up with his buddy Bob, with me sitting at home.
Or as in, five years ago, who’d have thought my idea of celebrating and rewarding myself for a big-project finish and payout would be a new pair of Polaris snowmobile pants (note to Bill—UPS may be stopping by—and yes I know I totally could have slipped that by you and worn them for the remaindering season if I’d not just gone public with it)…. or a Saturday babysitter and treating Bill to gas and lunch at some trailside location…or some girly snowmobile stickers for my truck (note to self—finish your sticker order!); in fact five years ago I didn’t even own a truck and had no intention of doing so.
Paul sharing the love of the sport with son, Matt
As our other buddy Paul so LOVES to remind me, five years ago I was an un-fun, bitter wife who called herself a snow-widow and snarled every time the subject of snowmobiling came up. I had no sympathy for the “guys” when they complained that they HAD to ride this weekend because the snow might be gone by the next. I had my own ideas of what HAD to happen. I cared little for driving hours away and spending the day with my kids and in-laws so Bill could buzz around the great snowmobile state of Vermont. I cared not at all to buy another trailing arm at the tune of a cool hundred bucks, or to replace the seat and bumper that someone rode up on because it had a dent or a scratch (which reminds me, I’ve got a bumper in need of a little attention—and no it was not my fault!).
So What Changed?
What changed was that four years ago, while I was still pregnant with our last child, Bill decided in the fall that it was time for a new sled. And I’d finally had enough. I put my foot down and told him that if he was buying a new snowmobile…..!
The sled that Bill Bought
…he’d better buy two. And he did. Really with no argument, to his credit.
After that, it all changed. It’s funny thinking back now because I remember when Bill went shopping for those sleds. I’d told him something used and cheap was good enough for me. After all, up until then I’d done no real trail riding, only banging around in the fields when I was young. I’d never dare to go over thirty, so no, his old 600 XCSP was not a good idea for me.
I Remember The Day….
The Sled that Bill Bought Me [giant grin :)
I remember when he came home and told me what he’d picked out for me—the Polaris 550 Pro X that I still have (because it’s a nice sled with hardly any miles because it can’t seat 4 kids—and I wouldn’t want it to). I remember telling him that was more sled than I needed, and him talking about how he’d weighed it out and wanted a sled with potential and value. I also remember him telling his friends that at least that way, when he sold it with 300 miles on it because I never rode it, it would be a nice sled with some resale value. As it turns out, he’s not always as right as he thinks he is.
The Moral Of the Story
Today, things are quite different. Bill’s created a bit of a monster, and the germ is spreading. Since then, at least three close female friends or family members have bought sleds and caught the bug, with a number of others in the works; next year I fully expect to see Melissa in Maine with us, and no, breastfeeding a young’un is not an excuse—been there, found a way around that!
Sherry has a sled!
Now, it’s not always Bill pushing for weekends out riding—I take all the credit for making him go last Sunday after all day out riding Saturday. I’ve more than doubled my 30 mph, and my sled has probably the same number of miles (or close) as Bill’s. Now, I actually care that his clutch is squeaking and might need new bushings. Now, I know that a clutch has bushings. Now, I’m signing a check and sending him back downtown so his crappy clutch doesn’t ruin my good day riding!
Sarah has a sled!
Now, Paul gets to make girly whining noises as he ruffles my hair and teases me for my prior bitterness. Of course now, I’ve got little to be bitter about, save for the fact that winter only lasts a quarter of the year around here if we’re lucky. Now, I root for the bad-weather forecasts, and swear at the people who live in New England but complain about snowstorms. Now I write a snowmobile blog for women for crying out loud! There’s no way I could have predicted THAT five years ago!
Gus has a sled! But he's decidedly not a girl, and that's not actually his sled, it's Bill's.
An even happier couple now!
The other great bene is that now Bill and I have finally found something in common. Today he comes home from the local Polaris dealer and hands me the new Polaris Rush brochure, and we’re both licking our lips. What’s even funnier is that I’d already checked it out online and watched the virtual ride while he was downtown. Much as we enjoy rides out with a big crew, we also enjoy a few hours’ dash together alone, just the two of us. We’ve found some common ground, and we’re imposing our much-loved sport on our kids. Last year when we visited the local Polaris dealer with the intention of buying the boys the 120, and I saw that hot-pink one sitting there, an old, familiar refrain sounded out:
And so we did!
“If you’re coming home with one, you’d better come home with two!”
Take A Friend Riding?
The big push by the International Snowmobile Manufacturer’s Association has been their “Take a Friend Riding” campaign. Take a friend riding? How about take a wife!? (girlfriend, sister, significant other….) I’ll tell you all now that’s a surefire way to grow the sport and get yourself out of the doghouse in the process. And put a smile on a lady’s face 
Okay, I don’t plan to live in Fort Kent, but I have been there and we have considered it (Bill still does). Nevertheless, it’s only a couple hours’ drive from where we do intend to live. And that’s a heluva lot closer than Massachusetts!
