Maniac On The Track
Howdy, Neighbor. People have been telling Phil he’s a good storyteller for a long time… so we are trying something new and pretty-much non-sales Just sharing occasional sweet stories, tall tales, and life lessons learned around these parts. Northwoods Notes are a new, semi-bi-irregular peek into the heart and mind of Phil Frasier… you can read or listen… whichever you prefer… and you are receiving a copy because you’re a current customer of Frasier’s Plumbing and Heating, Inc. We think you’ll like them, but you can unsubscribe any time by clicking on the link at the bottom. But we hope you give us a chance!
Grandpa Frasier was crazy for snowmobiling. He was a nut for cross country and track races. When it came to snowmobiles, grandpa was a maniac on the track.
He once invited me on a test run with him. Whew. That was a loooong day.
These snowmobiles weren’t the slick, shiny machines of today. These were the old models with carburetor systems and horns in the front. They put off some serious heat, so at least I was able to keep my hands warm.
One day, Grandpa told me to take his “Artic Cat El Tigre” and open it up out on the lake. I couldn’t believe it. He never even let us touch his snowmobiles, much less take them for a spin.
But that was about to change.
He said, “Go ahead. Open it up. Get it up to sixty.”
Now, I’m not gonna lie. I was excited, but it also kinda freaked me out. But I climbed on that old snowmobile and took off across the lake.
I had that throttle wide open… and just as I was about to hit sixty, a new souped-up machine came out of nowhere and blew right past me.
Grandpa hadn’t told me he bought a new racing snowmobile.
He had sent me out on the lake just so he could demonstrate the speed of his new machine.
According to his calculations, he got it up to ninety before turning around. I thought I was going fast, but he blew me away.
I told you he was a maniac on that thing.
It wasn’t until the late 90’s that I bought my own snowmobile. But it didn’t hold the same charm for me.
I’d take it across the lake, then I’d have to work on it.
I’d take it down trails, then I’d have to work on it.
Honestly, it was more of a hassle than it was worth.
One snowy night, I was driving home from work through twenty inches of snow. Wouldn’t you know it, my truck got stuck.
I tried everything I could, including wedging a few logs under the tires, but that big ol’ pickup didn’t budge. So, I called for a tow.
When the wrecker showed up, he didn’t just pull me out of the ditch, he also pulled me all the way home to make sure I didn’t end up in yet another ditch.
As we were settling the bill, I happened to ask if he knew anyone looking for a snowmobile. Turned out that he loved snowmobiles! So, I offered him a trade for the tow. He agreed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Look, I tried. I know I’m in the minority here in the Northwoods, but snowmobiles just don’t do it for me.
Sorry, Grandpa. I guess I didn’t inherit your talent for being a maniac on the track.
Take care, neighbor. Take good care.
P.S. – The world record for top snowmobile speed is 320 miles per hour. I bet Grandpa could’ve given them a run for their money.
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