When I was seventeen I got my dream job as a snowboard salesman at Pedersen's Ski and Sports in downtown Ogden. I worked with cute girls, got a sweet discount, and we had a Powder Mountain season pass in the shop. I barely got paid for it, but I didn't really need any money anyway. Five bucks an hour plus 2% commission usually ended up being 5 bucks an hour. One week during Christmastime I hauled in around $9 an hour, so that was hot.Anyway, I bought a snowboard there, my second really, but the first one that counts. My first snowboard was literally one of the first that Burton made. I got it for $25 at a pawn shop and used it exclusively on the hill behind South Junior High School. This was an upgrade to the real scene, though. We'd gotten some kind of sweet deal on these 5150's and I picked up the board, the bindings, and the best boots on the market at the time for around $150 with my discounts and have ridden that setup ever since. It's been 12 years, I reckon. This year I've finally upgraded.
As I removed the bindings from the ol' battleaxe, though, I caught myself getting a bit nostalgic. There are a lot of stories wrapped up in that shop, this board, and my experiences on the mountain. I liked it, even though in certain lights it looked pink. Everyone knows, though, that its color was melon.
My first day snowboarding I went with a friend of mine who'd just gotten a board that year, too. Neither of us had any idea what we were doing, so at the top of the lift we just pointed our boards down the hill and let gravity do the rest.
Gravity did its part, alright. I figure I'd just about broken the sound barrier when I decided that I needed to stop. So I sat down. Fifty feet later I stopped rolling. Luckily, a neighbor who'd been a ski instructor happened to be there and showed us the basics. I'm amazed I tried again.
I did, though, and got good enough that I felt like teaching a friend at school. OK, a friend I totally had the hots for. I swung her a ridiculous discount on a coat and pants (my boss was sympathetic of my hopeless crush) and put my name down for both of the Powder passes for the big day. I rolled into the shop that morning to pick them up, and it turned out our regional manager had walked in, crossed my name off the calendar, and took them both so that he and his wife could go. This is a guy who was making 6 figures.
Yeah. Anyway, it was expensive and I didn't marry her. Not sure if I came out ahead on that one.
The best story probably comes from when I tried to grind a rail. I'd done it a couple of times before without incident, and gave it a shot in front of my college snowboarding class. I fell off, kinda weakly, and slapped my hand on the ice.It didn't feel like much, but when I pulled off my glove I saw two lumps rising up on the back of my hand. I was feeling a little nauseous. My friend said that the swelling would go away and I'd be fine, but I went home and had Kristin take me to the emergency room anyway.
The metacarpals were so broken that they'd been pushed up into my skin, making all four of my fingers even when I held my hand up. One surgery and 6 weeks of physical therapy later, I was back in action. Metal plate, 15 titanium screws and all.
I've had some good times with good company on that board. I've never gone more than 5 or 6 times in a season, and aside from a pretty good proficiency at shooting tree runs at a good clip, I've never really pushed it as far as what can be done. With a professional paycheck and some paid vacation, though, I hope to spend a lot more time on the mountain in the next couple of winters. It's time to trade in the old hoopty for something a little slicker.I hope it doesn't mind.
