Oops!

Wendy and I decided to go for a snowmobile ride to Bert’s to see if they cared to go riding for the evening.  By the roads, and that was our chosen method, it was about ten miles or so.  When road traveling we usually kept a rather sedate pace adhering to speed limit rules, until nearing our destination that is.  The last short part of a journey was almost always a race to be the first one there.  This night was no different.

Bert lived on a dirt road with exceptionally little traffic.  Wendy and I were about ½ mile from his farm when Wendy gave his Johnson 440 full throttle.  Of course, I couldn’t let this challenge go unanswered so I did also with my SnoJet 440 SST.  We were side by side at about 70 mph with myself on the left.  With no warning of any sort Wendy’s sled began tossing end for end, a$$ over teakettle, down the road.  Wendy was thrown off, between our sleds, sliding on his belly.  To keep from running over him I climbed the left snowbank about 7’ high, and remained on top of it.

To my left only feet away was woods, while to my right was a wonderful tableau.  There was Wendy sliding along on his belly.  His speed had started out at about 70mph but was decreasing, as was mine, and his sled was still turning end for end and shedding parts each time it hit the road with a thud.

Staying atop that snowbank was about kin to tightrope walking but I managed, and after a while we all came to a halt.  After we backtracked with my sled picking up stray parts we once more returned to the crippled sled.  It seems the right ski had abandoned its moorings and flew the coop.  The stub ski shaft dug into the frozen road, and started the loop-the-loops of the flying sled.  Wendy packed the extra parts on his sled and we more sedately rode the short distance to Bert’s with Wendy holding his sled up on one ski.

A few minutes of repair work on the ski, throw away a few items like smashed windshield and such, and we were good to go for another wonderful evening of winter riding enjoyment.