A VINTAGE SLED MEMORY
By Doc Jim
Fri, 18 Jul 2003 19:27:21
It was the winter of 1968 and I was 10 years old. Every winter my dad would take my brother and I to Warroad Minnesota to visit my grandparents and do some fishing on Lake Of The Woods. 1968 was an exceptional winter, as it was very cool and we had many feet of snow.
It was also a boom year for snowmobiles and it seemed everybody had one, or was getting one.
Earlier that year, my dad had purchased a 1967 Colt with a 372 JLO motor. This replaced the slower Colt 80 he had in his arsenal. He spoke of racing “the old 372″ and naturally, it spiked my curiosity in snowmobile racing. But this trip we left the Colt at home and went to just fish Walleyes. When we got there, to my astonishment, I discovered that my grandfather had joined in the snowmobile craze! In the yard were two Johnson snowmobiles! One was a brand new 1968 model and the other an older 1965. As I looked at them, I thought to myself that this fishing trip may turn out to be a lot more fun than I could imagine!
My grandfather Lawrence was a large man. He was a lumberjack type that honored a hard days work. So naturally, his only question when he bought the sleds was “how much work will they do?” The next thing you know, there are the two Johnsons. The following morning I awoke to foot steps climbing up the stairway while listening to yells of “lets go, the days burning!” I was extremely tired, so I yet peeked up at the clock to see it was only 5:30 AM. I thought “now who in their right mind would want to get up this early”? But the smell of bacon and coffee made it a little easier. With a start I remembered we were going fishing and were taking the Johnsons. Now I was wide awake.
I scarfed the breakfast and had my one piece snowmobile suit on in a flash. We got to the fish house, and while Lawrence hauled in the fishing supplies, I stayed on the Johnson for awhile and pretended I was Bob Eastman. Eventually I joined everyone in the fish house. The fish were biting that morning and Lawrence started talking about the Johnsons and how much work they would do… “My Johnson will pull a half cord of wood and not even grunt”. “These other new fangled machines can hardly pull themselves through the snow”. While he was talking, I was looking out the tiny fogged-over window in the fish house and staring intently at the Johnsons. All I saw was sea foam green Ferrari’s! They were calling out for someone to get on them and put the hammer down!
By noon Lawrence was ready to go because he caught his limit. His limit was not dictated by the Minnesota DNR, but by how many fish would fit under the snowmobile seat, which was usually around twenty five. After a ride home on the Johnsons, we got back to the Warroad river. There is a big cement wall that surrounds the Warroad river which creates a barrier from the lake and the homes. Normally we would drive around to get up the wall, but this time he stopped in front of the house and parked on the river. I looked at Lawrence and asked “are we going to ride the Johnson’s later?” All he said “we will see”.
We had some chicken noodle soup for lunch and the whole time I waited and waited for him to say something about riding the snowmobiles… but, nothing. I finally had to ask ”grampa can we go ride the snowmobiles”? He said, smiling, “if you guys can start both of the sleds on your own, then you can ride them” Well….this should be nothing, after all I could start the 8 horse colt! Down to the river I ran. First I went to the 68 and this was no problem at all because it had electric start. I turned the key and away it went. I then focused my attention to the 65, all the time hearing the words “you must get both started”. You guessed it, this one did not have electric start!
I sat down on the seat of the 68 and looked at the 65 and it got bigger and bigger and bigger. I thought to myself no problem with a little extra tug, I know I can get her going. Each step I took toward the 65 I felt myself grow six inches taller and my arms growing two inches around. I got to the sled then turned the key, pulled out the neutral switch (as I watched Lawrence do), put my right foot on the running board, and with both hands pulled with everything I had………thump..thump..thump. OH-OH!
I repeated the steps until I was thoroughly exhausted. I was determined to get that sled running no matter what. I wish today I still had that same kind of determination, I’m sure I could move mountains. On the edge of the cement wall, my younger brother Bob stopped making his face-first snow angels (he would lay on his stomach and make them. To this very day he denies it) long enough to try and figure out what I was doing.
I then remembered that Lawrence had said “if YOU guys can get those sleds running”.
As I walked over to Bob I could see that up in the living room window grandpa and my dad were smiling as they watched my futile attempts. This only served to fuel even more determination. I explained to Bob that if we can get the 65 running its race time! It didn’t take much to convince him. Besides, his face was cold from being in the snow.
With my right leg under the hood and Bob’s on the foot stirrups, (along with our four hands on the starter rope) we gave it our all. After three pulls, away she went! Our efforts were greatly rewarded as we circled Governor’s Island in the middle of that river all afternoon.
The old Johnsons could probably only reach 35 MPH, but we knew better that we were going 100 MPH around that island. My grandfather Lawrence is gone now, but I want to thank him for the memory. If my brother Bob reads this and would like a rematch - I may let you ride the 68 this time.