The Family Toboggan

When I was a kid we lived up the street from the greatest sled hill for two miles around. I say two miles because just two miles away was “Twin Sisters” sound scary? - It was, but I digress. We lived just two blocks from the greatest sled hill around it had a 45 degree angle for a good 8 second sled ride and ended on a baseball field so you were never in danger of smacking into the fence or trying to stop before you get to the slushy creek. My parents were serious about their down hills sports. As long as I can remember the family owner a toboggan and every November when the wind got cold and the air dry Dad would lay the toboggan out on the coffee table or the dining room table and get the bees wax ready. Our little hands would take the great hunks of buttery yellow wax bricks to the bottom of the toboggan until every dowel-hole, every miniscule crack and every crevice filled with wax smooth and shiny. It was like the Midwest version of a surfboard. Then we’d wait the long wait for snow.

When the snow finally came we’d pull on layers of winter clothes. First long underwear, then turtle neck, then knee socks with the long underwear tucked into them, then a sweater, and jeans and over those jeans another pair of jeans or sweat pants, a second pair of socks the outer ones wool, socks on your hands, winder coats, hats, mittens over the socks on your hands, and then mom would wind a great scarf over your face and you’d better be on your way out already or you’d be sweating. We’d drag the toboggan up the street through people s’ yards careful to pick it up were people had shoveled the snow so it wouldn’t drag on the sidewalk.

Upon arrival the hill was always a hodge-podge of downhill equipment. There would be a few good old fashioned sleds with runners; and you have to watch out for those I once heard about a kid who got his ear sliced off by getting himself run over by one, so we’d identify those right away and vow to stay far away from the front of them. There would be the kids who didn’t have anything but a piece of cardboard or a garbage bag they found, but those kids sometimes went the fastest. There would be the kids with the coveted red plastic saucers, we wanted saucers so bad. They were so sleek and plastic and shiny and red and didn’t require any prep and you could spin around on the way down on them. There would be a few plastic sleds with breaks on either side and there would be us and our Family Toboggan.

The hill would be great; we’d sled for an hour or so until you couldn’t feel your chin and your thighs would be getting wet from the snow finally melting through all your layers. The nice part about a toboggan is it was always your turn, it was always everyone’s turn and sometimes you could even fit on some of the kids who couldn’t get their garbage bag going, on the back with everyone else. I think you could fit about eight kids on ours. You just had to make sure you weren’t in between the legs of someone who might pee on you. You gotta put the pee-kid in front.

Finally with snot and sweat dripping down your face we’d argue with Dad about taking our hats off and then it’s be time to go, but not before the piece de resistance, Dad would surf down the hill standing on the toboggan. We’d gather up as he’d scope out where the cleanest snow was far away from the jumps and ice runs us kids adored. He’d put the toboggan reigns in his hands and stand sideways and we’d “Oooh” and “Ahhh” as he’d artfully surf his way down. Then we’d all clap and hoot and holler and start the slog home while rehashing every run, deciding wich was the best. At home we’d peel all the wet clothes off and sit in front of the wood burner in our long underwear sipping the hot chocolate Mom made. I don’t think I’ve had a hot chocolate like that since, but I’m going to give it a try this year. We have a great sledding hill just four blocks away.