When the temperature goes to twenty-five below zero, it really doesn't make much difference whether you are Fahrenheit or Celsius as that weather is cold enough to freeze the Ohio River solid from one side to the other.
There are many things one can do in such a circumstance. Perhaps your preference is to stock up on supplies such that an enduring weather problem will not create a crisis for you. Perhaps you stock up extra blankets.
Or maybe you get together with your friends so you can head North on a ski trip ... in a VW minibus ... to Mont Tremblant ... in Quebec.
Perhaps you say this is stupid but is it as stupid as base-jumping or jumping out of an aircraft with a parachute and a skateboard. This trip may have been equally stupid but certainly not more so.
The Volkswagen is one of the few vehicles which can take the outside Winter air ... and make it colder. The vehicles are equipped with heaters ... but they don't do anything. They have motors as well but they don't do much either. It does have irony, tho, as the minibus is one of the worst-polluting vehicles ever built and all those hippies were spreading more smog than the corporate piggies and piggettes could hope.
Naturally, that was the vehicle we chose for this expedition. Young men are not constrained by logic.
So we set off from Cincinnati to Montreal and then on north to Mont Tremblant. Rocketman was the mission commander and he was the owner of the vehicle, hence the name. I was the Irresponsible Co-Pilot but Rocketman knew I was not at all interested in driving into a mountain because it would be so much more preferable to be skiing on it.
Omar Sharif (huge bridge enthusiast) and Sparky had been friends for as long as I had known Omar but I had never met Sparky. Pleased to meetcha. Let's go skiing.
Crash Test Man was part of it as well and he was well-qualified for an expedition like this because ... he already had two rods along his spinal column from a previous car crash. I don't think I had any metal in me at this point as my bike crashes were still a ghost of Christmas Future.
This was mid-70's so nothing was going to happen unless the provisions included sufficient drugs for such an expedition. For our purposes, an adequate supply of marijuana and cocaine was good plus some fancier embellishments for special situations. Rolling Blues Brothers, we were. We had no guitars but we did have skis. And we were young. And we wanted adventure.
We rolled and we rolled ... and the temperature kept on falling ... just as did the ice as it would flake off the ceiling of the minibus and fall as snow in this portable Winter Wonderland. Soda bottles blew up. We could have paid attention to these obvious signs to turn back but noooooo.
We really did shuffle all the way to Buffalo but there was no more shuffling after that it was so ridiculously cold that there were only two tiny portholes on the windshield for vision and everything else was covered with ice. The external air intakes for the motor were taped over but still that poor, suffering little motor just couldn't do it.
Maybe you ask what one does in Buffalo but that's easy: the same as everyone else. We got wasted and watched television. When we were satisfied there was no chance wisdom would occur to us before waking, we retired to continue the journey on the morn when the warming rays of the sun would bring love, light and hope to the world, ideally with a bit more warmth.
And so it did as the morning shone brightly, just as in every half-ass story that started out with a bright morning and the rays of the sun were glittering over a snowy landscape that sparkled as diamonds. Yah, yah, shoot the postcard and let's get rolling. We've got skiing to do.
As brightly as the sun shone, it did not impart wisdom and we set off North once again. Since things were moving better, it was a wee bit warmer, and there was reason for some optimism so that means one thing: let's get wasted. Sorry, Rocketman. We'll get wasted and tell you about it. (This is a cover-up as I have no idea if he smoked too.)
The reason for mention of the smoking is you may recall there is one area of specific interest in traveling to Canada and that, li'l sugar bears, is the border crossing ... with cops ... and guns ... and not at all a favorable attitude toward itinerant stoner hippie bums who bring Communism and disease to our fair country.
We rolled up to the border crossing in a scene straight from the Blues Brothers as we did think enough to roll down the windows but doing it as we drove up to meet the guard might not have been the best time. And so it was we greeted the state ... with smoke billowing out of the windows, all of which cries out to the world, "Arrest me ... Arrest me."
They didn't do anything. We didn't really think they would, tho, as this is Canada, man. They're much cooler than that, right? I guess they must be as they didn't bust us and it would have been just a bit of a problem if they did. Thank you, Great God Mescalito who looks out over trippin' people and takes care of us despite the really stupid stuff we do.
We did eventually reach Mont Tremblant but the trans-dimensional shift was unusual because it's not like Europe. People in Quebec can often speak English in addition to French but they won't because they want to make a political point. We sympathized with their problem but they still ought to get the house in order before inviting people into it.
There are some points from the skiing part of the trip but not too much of that as the adventure didn't even really begin until the way back.
- When the temperature is, at best, -25 degrees at ground level, what does your brilliant computer programmer mind anticipate for the top of the mountain. Note that anything higher than a -80 wind chill is wildly optimistic. I got a wind burn on the side of my face from that little stunt and it lasted for years.
- Rocketman took a fall and injured his tailbone. Never, ever injure your tailbone as it's agonizingly painful ... but any mention of it only makes people laugh. You only have to say one time, "Man, I'm having trouble keeping up. My butt hurts."
Let the punchlines begin.
- Never drop a vial of coke when you're skiing. You will never see it again.
- There was the glorious moment of which I have no recollection in which I was drunk and wailing no-one likes Americans. (I'm fairly sure this was the last time I ever got drunk)
- There was another glorious moment, also somewhat intoxicated, in which I thought it would be a good idea to try escargot. Garcon, please bring me some snails. I'm really getting a feeling for nasty, squishy little things floating in melted butter.
We stayed up there for a week in some lodge and the exchange rate was good so the first thing that happened when we got there was that they gave us some money back because we had paid in American dollars. I submit this is an excellent way to start a vacation. They don't just tell you to have a good time as they give you the beer money to pay for it.
A week of highly-intoxicated skiing followed but there were no casualties other than Rocketman's coccyx and it did finally find its way back to health.
The Road Back to Cincinnati was not so intoxicated as we had run out of just about everything by then. The driving was as exciting as a Winter road trip can be as we saw snow, more snow, and then one big ton of snow in Cleveland where they get what they call 'lake effect snow' and, in English, that means there's a ton more snow here than anywhere else around.
Despite all the snow, we did well with it driving through Cleveland ... well ... most of the way through Cleveland.
As we began the exit from the city for the two last legs on the way back to Cincinnati, the minibus went into an oh-no-we're-all-going-to-die high-speed slides. It's one of those slow-motion Winter slides and this gives us plenty of time to consider how we will enjoy death.
We hit broadside the wall of snow on the inner median of the Interstate and immediately we started tipping. Rocketman and Crash Test Man were in the front seats. Omar Sharif and Sparky were sitting on the back bench. I was sitting on the floor in the middle and looking back at Omar and Sparky so we could talk or at least offer commiseration over the cold.
So, Omar, Sparky and I were looking at each other as we rolled. There was really nothing we could say or do so we just looked at each other, thinking, well, this is unusual, isn't it. (That expression has come up frequently in my life)
We rolled the minibus onto its side but that wasn't enough, noooo. The bus kept rolling and Omar, Sparky, and I kept on looking at each other as the bus rolled onto its roof. All of the skis and poles have gone orbital about this time but the three of us stay more or less in-place and still with the same general expression.
The bus kept on rolling and the same thing happened as stuff was flying about but we mostly held our locations ... and kept on rolling as we wound up all the way back to four wheels. Nobody said anything at first as that could not possibly have just happened. No-one was injured and even the bus wasn't hurt that much as it was all through snow and it didn't even break a window.
Omar had one immediate reaction. Even if I have to sit on the ground and scoot to Cincinnati on my backside, I am NOT riding back in that Deathmobile. I need to find a way to get to the airport. He was and probably still is a licensed pilot and this probably cemented the idea for him that cars are useless for traveling.
My only thought was not dead is definitely better than dead and not dead plus not injured is even better than that ... well, except for the Rocketman but he was already injured.
Sure enough the flatfoots will show up for this but they were very cool about it. There wasn't even any talk of Frank the Buster as the only concern was how to get the bus out of the median and maybe it even still runs.
Oh, you say you still don't believe in the Great God Mescalito, the Lord and Protector of Dumb Ass Trippin' People? Really??
We didn't stay around for the scores for the Cleveland Car-Jumping Rodeo and it was duly added into the annals as more documentation of that which does not kill us leaves us at least as crazy as we were when we first thought of doing it.
There are many things one can do in such a circumstance. Perhaps your preference is to stock up on supplies such that an enduring weather problem will not create a crisis for you. Perhaps you stock up extra blankets.
Or maybe you get together with your friends so you can head North on a ski trip ... in a VW minibus ... to Mont Tremblant ... in Quebec.
Perhaps you say this is stupid but is it as stupid as base-jumping or jumping out of an aircraft with a parachute and a skateboard. This trip may have been equally stupid but certainly not more so.
The Volkswagen is one of the few vehicles which can take the outside Winter air ... and make it colder. The vehicles are equipped with heaters ... but they don't do anything. They have motors as well but they don't do much either. It does have irony, tho, as the minibus is one of the worst-polluting vehicles ever built and all those hippies were spreading more smog than the corporate piggies and piggettes could hope.
Naturally, that was the vehicle we chose for this expedition. Young men are not constrained by logic.
So we set off from Cincinnati to Montreal and then on north to Mont Tremblant. Rocketman was the mission commander and he was the owner of the vehicle, hence the name. I was the Irresponsible Co-Pilot but Rocketman knew I was not at all interested in driving into a mountain because it would be so much more preferable to be skiing on it.
Omar Sharif (huge bridge enthusiast) and Sparky had been friends for as long as I had known Omar but I had never met Sparky. Pleased to meetcha. Let's go skiing.
Crash Test Man was part of it as well and he was well-qualified for an expedition like this because ... he already had two rods along his spinal column from a previous car crash. I don't think I had any metal in me at this point as my bike crashes were still a ghost of Christmas Future.
This was mid-70's so nothing was going to happen unless the provisions included sufficient drugs for such an expedition. For our purposes, an adequate supply of marijuana and cocaine was good plus some fancier embellishments for special situations. Rolling Blues Brothers, we were. We had no guitars but we did have skis. And we were young. And we wanted adventure.
We rolled and we rolled ... and the temperature kept on falling ... just as did the ice as it would flake off the ceiling of the minibus and fall as snow in this portable Winter Wonderland. Soda bottles blew up. We could have paid attention to these obvious signs to turn back but noooooo.
We really did shuffle all the way to Buffalo but there was no more shuffling after that it was so ridiculously cold that there were only two tiny portholes on the windshield for vision and everything else was covered with ice. The external air intakes for the motor were taped over but still that poor, suffering little motor just couldn't do it.
Maybe you ask what one does in Buffalo but that's easy: the same as everyone else. We got wasted and watched television. When we were satisfied there was no chance wisdom would occur to us before waking, we retired to continue the journey on the morn when the warming rays of the sun would bring love, light and hope to the world, ideally with a bit more warmth.
And so it did as the morning shone brightly, just as in every half-ass story that started out with a bright morning and the rays of the sun were glittering over a snowy landscape that sparkled as diamonds. Yah, yah, shoot the postcard and let's get rolling. We've got skiing to do.
As brightly as the sun shone, it did not impart wisdom and we set off North once again. Since things were moving better, it was a wee bit warmer, and there was reason for some optimism so that means one thing: let's get wasted. Sorry, Rocketman. We'll get wasted and tell you about it. (This is a cover-up as I have no idea if he smoked too.)
The reason for mention of the smoking is you may recall there is one area of specific interest in traveling to Canada and that, li'l sugar bears, is the border crossing ... with cops ... and guns ... and not at all a favorable attitude toward itinerant stoner hippie bums who bring Communism and disease to our fair country.
We rolled up to the border crossing in a scene straight from the Blues Brothers as we did think enough to roll down the windows but doing it as we drove up to meet the guard might not have been the best time. And so it was we greeted the state ... with smoke billowing out of the windows, all of which cries out to the world, "Arrest me ... Arrest me."
They didn't do anything. We didn't really think they would, tho, as this is Canada, man. They're much cooler than that, right? I guess they must be as they didn't bust us and it would have been just a bit of a problem if they did. Thank you, Great God Mescalito who looks out over trippin' people and takes care of us despite the really stupid stuff we do.
We did eventually reach Mont Tremblant but the trans-dimensional shift was unusual because it's not like Europe. People in Quebec can often speak English in addition to French but they won't because they want to make a political point. We sympathized with their problem but they still ought to get the house in order before inviting people into it.
There are some points from the skiing part of the trip but not too much of that as the adventure didn't even really begin until the way back.
- When the temperature is, at best, -25 degrees at ground level, what does your brilliant computer programmer mind anticipate for the top of the mountain. Note that anything higher than a -80 wind chill is wildly optimistic. I got a wind burn on the side of my face from that little stunt and it lasted for years.
- Rocketman took a fall and injured his tailbone. Never, ever injure your tailbone as it's agonizingly painful ... but any mention of it only makes people laugh. You only have to say one time, "Man, I'm having trouble keeping up. My butt hurts."
Let the punchlines begin.
- Never drop a vial of coke when you're skiing. You will never see it again.
- There was the glorious moment of which I have no recollection in which I was drunk and wailing no-one likes Americans. (I'm fairly sure this was the last time I ever got drunk)
- There was another glorious moment, also somewhat intoxicated, in which I thought it would be a good idea to try escargot. Garcon, please bring me some snails. I'm really getting a feeling for nasty, squishy little things floating in melted butter.
We stayed up there for a week in some lodge and the exchange rate was good so the first thing that happened when we got there was that they gave us some money back because we had paid in American dollars. I submit this is an excellent way to start a vacation. They don't just tell you to have a good time as they give you the beer money to pay for it.
A week of highly-intoxicated skiing followed but there were no casualties other than Rocketman's coccyx and it did finally find its way back to health.
The Road Back to Cincinnati was not so intoxicated as we had run out of just about everything by then. The driving was as exciting as a Winter road trip can be as we saw snow, more snow, and then one big ton of snow in Cleveland where they get what they call 'lake effect snow' and, in English, that means there's a ton more snow here than anywhere else around.
Despite all the snow, we did well with it driving through Cleveland ... well ... most of the way through Cleveland.
As we began the exit from the city for the two last legs on the way back to Cincinnati, the minibus went into an oh-no-we're-all-going-to-die high-speed slides. It's one of those slow-motion Winter slides and this gives us plenty of time to consider how we will enjoy death.
We hit broadside the wall of snow on the inner median of the Interstate and immediately we started tipping. Rocketman and Crash Test Man were in the front seats. Omar Sharif and Sparky were sitting on the back bench. I was sitting on the floor in the middle and looking back at Omar and Sparky so we could talk or at least offer commiseration over the cold.
So, Omar, Sparky and I were looking at each other as we rolled. There was really nothing we could say or do so we just looked at each other, thinking, well, this is unusual, isn't it. (That expression has come up frequently in my life)
We rolled the minibus onto its side but that wasn't enough, noooo. The bus kept rolling and Omar, Sparky, and I kept on looking at each other as the bus rolled onto its roof. All of the skis and poles have gone orbital about this time but the three of us stay more or less in-place and still with the same general expression.
The bus kept on rolling and the same thing happened as stuff was flying about but we mostly held our locations ... and kept on rolling as we wound up all the way back to four wheels. Nobody said anything at first as that could not possibly have just happened. No-one was injured and even the bus wasn't hurt that much as it was all through snow and it didn't even break a window.
Omar had one immediate reaction. Even if I have to sit on the ground and scoot to Cincinnati on my backside, I am NOT riding back in that Deathmobile. I need to find a way to get to the airport. He was and probably still is a licensed pilot and this probably cemented the idea for him that cars are useless for traveling.
My only thought was not dead is definitely better than dead and not dead plus not injured is even better than that ... well, except for the Rocketman but he was already injured.
Sure enough the flatfoots will show up for this but they were very cool about it. There wasn't even any talk of Frank the Buster as the only concern was how to get the bus out of the median and maybe it even still runs.
Oh, you say you still don't believe in the Great God Mescalito, the Lord and Protector of Dumb Ass Trippin' People? Really??
We didn't stay around for the scores for the Cleveland Car-Jumping Rodeo and it was duly added into the annals as more documentation of that which does not kill us leaves us at least as crazy as we were when we first thought of doing it.
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