On Frozen Pond

Some of my best winter memories are from living up in 'da North' country of Minnesota, up near Duluth and Lake Superior. Those familiar with the territory may affectionately label this area as the "icebox" of the continental U.S. With good reason, as some of the coldest seasonal temperatures recorded have been captured in these upper regions. I'm sure our family experienced our fair share of them. I can remember quite a few nights huddled together around the wood burning stove in our little lakeside cottage home, car batteries frozen solid and the local roadways into town completely drifted over with snow. This was when a heavy blanket and a good supply of split wood really helped keep the mood warm ... literally.

One such north winter was full of especially memorable times. It was early December of my junior year of high school and I had just received a used 1980 Ford Fairmont Futura ... a two door, four-speed manual transmission, rear wheel drive beauty in a sporty two-toned blue and grey ... as my first official vehicle. Not only did it become my daily school transportation throughout the week, but it also served to ferry me to and from various youth group activities at our church some 15 miles away on weeknights and weekends. Additionally, it became the car of choice for various snowy outings by me and my friends. You see, since each of them had yet to score a car of their own, the Fairmont became our sole source of travel and winter-tainment.

On many a blustery snowy afternoon, my friends and I would load up in the Fairmont and cruise the frozen roadways in and around Cloquet, MN searching for the slickest and steepest roadways we could find. And there were plenty to be found. When one of daring proportions was located, we would proceed to challenge all laws of sensible driving habits, initially taught to us by our small town driver education class the past summer (interestingly, none of those films seemed to have a solid effect on any of us), and hold on tightly as we literally skated our way to the bottom of each hill. It was our Minnesotan version of "car hockey". Oh, many a laugh was had as we wildly careened out of control over glassy roadways and wooded lanes. Fortunately, we were blessed enough not to have encountered anything more than a friendly snow drift along our paths.

A much more tame escapade I remember involved the ice-road on the lake on which we resided. It had just finished a hard snow and a fresh layer 12-14 inches thick covered everything, including the winding backroads into the wooded area where our house was located. I happened to be spending the night at a friend's that weekend and learned the road home was virtually impassable. Rather than shack up an additional night or two while waiting for the roads to be plowed, I decided I'd try my luck the same way the local ice fishermen have always traveled during the winter ... by driving across the lake. You see, from our house perched on top of the hill, we had watched as dozens of snowmobiles and vehicles sped over the frozen surface daily. Knowing this was reasonably possible, my friend and I drove my Fairmont over to the local swimming area and entered the icy arena via the boat ramp. It was roughly a mile from there to the boat dock next to our house. Though travel on the ice was a little rough at first, as we neared the center of the lake our ride began to smooth out due to the constantly sweeping effect of the wind. Slowly we picked up speed, going ever faster and faster until we were soon pushing nearly 60mph. If you've never traveled on ice at this speed, let alone a lake of this proportion, it's an amazing experience. Noticing no traffic or obstacles ahead, and knowing a subtle trick my father had taught my brother and I while in a similar situation, I exclaimed to my buddy "hold on!" and simultaneously pulled the emergency brake and cranked the steering wheel fully over. In a split second, our forward momentum threw us into a frenzied spin of continuous 360° revolutions. With the speed we had been traveling, combined with the frictionless ice and powdered lakesnow the car kicked up along our corkscrew-like path, our icy commute instantly became a magnificent white-out to us inside the car. Faster and faster we spun, all the while laughing hysterically. After what seemed to be an eternity, our momentum slowly faded away and the snow that had been swirling around us now filtered down enough for us to notice we had traveled nearly a ¼ mile from the initial starting point of our rotation. With only a few hundred yards left to travel, we pulled in along side our moored dock and quietly parked the car, hoping my parents had not seen the harrowing spectacle from above. Oh, but what a ride!

Now, I feel the need to admit that the preceding incidents were likely attributed to my apparent apathetical lack of intelligent and rational driver/passenger safety. I was young back then and didn't have the full capacity to reason, as I do now in my more mature years. So I'll insert a quick note of caution here to my children, who will themselves receive their own driver licenses in approximately 10-12 short years: do not attempt to copy your father ... and if you do, do not let your mother or father find out until many, many years after. And to my shocked parents who might be reading this, I guess you had to learn of these shenanigans at some point.

Interestingly, there is an engaging television show now found on the History channel entitled Ice Road Truckers. It documents the unparalleled adventure of a virtually unknown occupation as extraordinary men haul vital supplies to diamond mines over frozen lakes in Canada's Northwest Territory that double as roads. Personally, I don't know if I could handle the type of dangerous conditions these guys do, however I can remember a time long ago when me and my trusted Fairmont traveled the "ice road" together one cold winter day ....