Chelsea, Vt. - By the time this column reaches Sunday readers, I’ll be nursing bumps, bruises, wind burn and maybe even a sprain from sledding and tobogganing on the long, steep hillside behind my daughter’s home in the foothills of Vermont’s snowy Green Mountains. The downhill slides (and required trudges up the hill) will take on special meaning for me because my triplet granddaughters will be flying over the snow on a sled and toboggan that have histories.
The 1970s-vintage Flexible Flyer runner sled is a classic. I bought it for my kids some 40 years ago. They put hard miles on it at our Devils Lake, N.D., home – up and down the slope to the lake, or loading it with ice fishing gear on long pulls across the frozen lake.
When they grew up and went their ways, the battered sled was forgotten – stored in the back of a wood shed. Rust pitted the runners. The varnish on the hardwood slats peeled away. The iconic “Flexible Flyer” art faded.
The triplets have given it new life. A little wood polish, a wire brush to the runners, a spot of WD40 where the steering bar pivots – and it was ready. It flies like it did when it was new.
The toboggan is much older. It was mine when I was a kid. It’s a spectacular 10-footer made of hardwood slats, and equipped with ropes for holding on. It flexes effortlessly over hillocks and drifts with a load of six, picking up speed as it goes, snow flying over the front curl, resisting attempts to steer it.
At 55 years old, it’s a magnificent thing. The wood has held its sheen. A few stress cracks were repaired easily and have held well. It was purchased in Connecticut, had a long life in North Dakota, and now is delivering high-speed snowy thrills in Vermont to a third generation.
Sometimes it’s the simple things that link family generations. An old sled and an older toboggan are like that. Just things, to be sure, but more. The tested steel of the Flyer’s runners and the tough wood of the long toboggan hold a half-century of memories – embellished as the years go by – as childhood memories must be. I can conjure up youthful stories about the toboggan. My kids have vivid memories of both sled and toboggan.
So now I can tell Bennett Sage, McKenna Faith and Harper Dakota my toboggan tales, and see their new eyes look back with wonder; and then shine with awe and newfound respect for that miraculous amalgamation of wood and rope and its promise of thrills. “I bet we can go faster than you,” says Bennett. “Not likely,” says I.
But they do. And they laugh uncontrollably as the acceleration down the long slope takes their breath away. I smile and remember how exciting it was for me way back when, and how wonderful it is for them today.
Contact Editorial Page Editor Jack Zaleski at jzaleski@forumcomm.com or (701) 241-5521.
