Good morning, Team! It’s Friday!

My latest white space/ guilt-free, off the grid time will include a couple of days snowmobiling. If you’re Canadian, you may say “snow machining” or “sledding, eh” but I call it snowmobiling and so it shall be.

My snowmobile roots go WAY back to 1964. I’m on my mamma’s lap in the family pick up as a new born while dads got big sis and big bro on the brand new ski-doo on the Red River of the North-enter the proverbial thin ice and pop dumps it. Saves the kids, apparently gets the sled out too but likely not wearing Gore-Tex back then. I’m guessing Car-hart coveralls from the old Nodak store and Red Wing Wellington boots. Can you say hypothermia?

Turns out Dad’s love affair goes back to HIS childhood walking to a country school in a far north North Dakota town wishing there was a “magic carpet” instead of walking (7 miles up hill each way in a foot of snow- pardon the embellishment, it’s my story) to school – so when Gjervold motors stocks a yellow, one lung sled, it’s destiny.

I took that same soaked sled for a joy ride around the house years later and while looking backwards at big bro and big sis not so politely encouraging me to get off, I straddled the clothes line post between our house and the neighbors. Simultaneously putting my unprotected melon through the plexiglass windshield. Oops! I would have heard tweety birds chirping were it not for the claims of “Wait until your Dad gets home and sees this!” and “You’re gonna get it.” I failed to realize Dad was trying to sell it and needless to say the buyer that came over that evening…was no longer interested due to the body modifications I had just completed.

I’ve rationalized over the years that the primary reason I LOVE to snowmobile is the past time/sport/expensive hobby is one of the only circumstances I have experienced where you can get yourself OUT of trouble by grabbing a hand full of gas. Yee-Haw! As opposed to a number of other times where I began a quick downward spiral predicated by “watch this!” and punching whatever I was driving. More gas meant more trouble.

We have trekked many thousands of miles and spent a good hundred thousand dollars (hurts to even type that) in search of the perfect powder experience where we’ve sought to justify the enormous time and money spent to squeeze a few more horse power and better handling designed to tackle taller obstacles and replicate that initial snowmobile high. I wouldn’t want to calculate the cost per mile but I can tell you, some of the most memorable times I’ve had on this planet were on a snowmobile with buddies, family or even by myself.

I have a Reader’s digest worthy story I could recount, and some day might before I forget it all. It involves sugar snow, elk fajitas and two guys out of nine who were both nick named “cave man”, the town tweeker and a $900 bill I was more than happy to pay.

Remember, this is a white space story so even I can’t tie this one to leadership. It’s meant to demonstrate that even the most tenacious need a breather.

Have a blessed weekend. Go make some memories!