It’s official. We’ve had our first ride of the season. Our little inch-and-a-half snowstorm was enough for the boys, and they had a blast with it!
The yougest boy was frothing at the mouth all morning long to try out that new Polaris 120. I must have been asked every 5 minutes whether we had enough snow to ride his snowmobile yet. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I sent him outside with a ruler that had a piece of duct tape on it at the 2 inch mark. I told him when the snow was up to that tape, he could have a ride on his sled. I think he tested every high and low spot in the yard until he reached that tape.
Let’s try a different spot!
Shortly after lunch, the snow was slowing down. We probably had just under 2 inches–if you measured in the right spot. Nevertheless, we called it good enough, and the adventure began.
Now, Moms, beware–if you promise your “all boy” 4 year old that he can have a ride on his new snowmobile, you’d better be prepared to deliver. With 4 kids, I’m usually careful about only making promises with an escape clause. Yesterday, I guess I got snow fever. I promised that boy he could have his ride–not for too long, I had work to do, but for a half an hour or so anyway. Good enough. It’s a deal.
I headed out to the shed to fire up his little 4 stroke. Now, you have to understand that this was the middle of the day. No Dad at home to assist me. Hairy making promises without a Dad around to back you up.
The trouble starts at the shed. Because the 120’s were in the back. Behind everything. More specifically, the black 120 was in the way back corner. The pink one was relatively accessible, but really, people….we’re not going to be riding that when the big girl isn’t around.
So my first task on the path to promise fulfillment was to get the black polaris 120 out of the shed. that meant getting the four wheeler out of the shed, getting the pink sled out of the way, and scooting the black sled out in between the pink sled and the wood splitter. Already, I was cursing myself for making a promise rather than the, “we’ll try buddy” effort.
Now, I’m not entirely incapable, and I do know how to start the fourwheeler, so that was task 1. Too bad the four wheeler wouldn’t start. Over and over I tried, thinking “Bill’s gonna kill me if I kill his battery”, but the thing just wouldn’t turn over. Almost a couple of times, but not quite. Finally, I’d had enough and gave up. But then there was that boy standing outside the shed door, just watching.
I have faith in you!
So I got on the four wheeler and got it into neutral so I could push it out of the shed. now mind you, this isn’t a little four wheeler. It’s one of those work-horse type Polaris four wheelers with the dump body and all. It’s a bit of a heave for a girl, but I did it. With just enough room to spare to get the little 120 out around it.
I could have used a little more room, so just for giggles I decided to give it one last try and back it up a bit. And the sucker started right up. Nice. We’re no longer friends, this four wheeler and I.
Come to find out later, the four wheeler has a choke. And yes I know all you guys–and probably some girls–are saying, “well, duh!”, but I looked for buttons and switches and never found one! I did find the run switch, which was on, and YES I DID TURN THE GAS ON, but the choke was hidden from plain view. At least my plain view. Thanks, Polaris.
At any rate, now the four wheeler was out of the way. Time to get the sled out. Not too much of a problem, the 120’s are pretty light. Even a Mom can heft them enough to jockey them around. I had to move the pink sled back, get the black one out and get it out of the shed (meanwhile still thinking, “just how bad would I scar his manliness if I just made hime ride the pink snowmobile?”). But I did it. Now we had to start the sled.
Well, of course that didn’t want to start either. It’s brand new, it’s a four-storke, and it was cold. At least I knew where the choke was on this one, though. It started no problem, but wouldn’t stay running. Determined to do this on our own and prove my abilities to my boy (who, no doubt, was thinking, “get out of my way woman and let me start that for you.”) I resisted the urge to call the Dad, started the 120 and let it run for a minute. Press the throttle, and…
It ran!! Woohoo! We did it! Next, I strapped the boy to the toggle, and we were off.
Good to go!
More like I was off. Our yard is fairly small for a sled, and our house sits right in the middle. And I didn’t fathom the idea of replacing house corners, sheds, patios, and doors, so I walked and jogged beside him and ran the throttle. Ten laps later, I was done.
Fearing the worst, I gave the “one more lap around” warning and surprisingly got the nod. We took that lap, brought ‘er back to the shed, and the boy triumphantly hit the kill switch. Proud as a peacock in his new Polaris helmet (which is almost as good as having a new Polaris snomobile), he strutted back into the house. And gushed about his “cool” ride for the rest of the afternoon.
All’s well that ends well.
Note to self: don’t promise a snowmobile ride unless you plan to deliver.
