““This is the throttle” he said, patting it with his glove, “this is the brake and this ... is the kill switch.” As he held my gaze for an extra beat, I felt myself resist the temptation to cringe. I was not expecting to be handed the briefcase with the nuclear codes, on my first time snowmobiling. So I nodded. Of course. The kill switch. Makes perfect sense. Probably more so for those who’d shot a gun, or trapped woodchucks in a hole. As for me, I felt an education looming. Then dragging my mind back to reality, I reminded myself that I was not a stereotypical tree hugger. I had killed ants and flies with brutal intensity in an uncontrolled rage. I had driven mice in have-a-heart traps to the ends of the earth, and left them to die there. I could, and should be able to when necessity called, operate a kill switch. Tania saw that I was struggling. “You can put your hat here” she said, showing me a cool compartment with nifty snaps. What incredibly generous friends, to offer to let me drive their spare snow machine, knowing I would probably destroy it. With the warmer weather moving in, and a significant melt in the forecast, this might possibly be our last day to party in the back woods. And then, we were off. Despite my jerky, experimental tug of war with the tachometer, I was suddenly flying through the snow, heading up and down, along the old “gived-up” road. If Jean could only see me now, I thought, remembering my departed neighbor who’d given me my first lesson on local road names. Careening up paths now oddly unrecognizable, my pedestrian mind kept asking, “where are we”? when indeed, no new territory was being taken by sled that had not been previously taken by ski or on foot. Yet, like a human on a roller coaster poised between ramshackle machine & ground, my heart readily attached to its plight, deafened by the thrill of combustion. The decision to go fast, to go slower, to do it this way, to do it like that ... not dissimilar to life itself. When we finally shut down at the ancient cemetery, I managed to regain some familiar footing. In the quiet of the woods, gauging where I was from where I’d been & the static lay of the land, then remembering all the friends who’d accompanied me here or close to here, I felt blessed. I let Bill turn my machine at the W. Corinth road, thankful to him for that, as it was a tight junction. We were heading home. Tania kept me in her rear view mirror, and never went faster than she thought I could handle. The hand warmers got too hot, and I didn’t know where the control was, and I had to keep my helmet windshield up due to claustrophobia. But the challenge to cope with new things, I figure it’s good. You don’t grow by staying in place, or maybe you do, but it’s good to notice when its time to shake things up. Doors close. Society shoves you out. People stop liking you. Don’t let it get you down. Move forward into your bliss, any old way you can.”
