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PSSA Articles:
March 2002, by Jerry Mueller
SNOWSEEKERS/ A NEW YEAR/ OUR THIRTIETH
Our New Year weekend at the clubhouse was fantastic starting on Friday and running through to Tuesday. All family with a large delegation of teenagers and a fair turnout of training pants and diaper crowd. The young crowd used every inch of snow that was present on club properties. The clubhouse was squeaky clean when we got there Friday morning. We built a large wood fire in the main room fireplace and in the wood burner in the social room and turned the thermostats up on the three new furnaces. In no time, it was like you were at home, comfy.
Snowseekers were coming in from every direction for the next three days to welcome in the New Year. Some of them were in New York riding the deeeep snows there and were attempting to ride from there on trail to the clubhouse only to run out of snow before traveling south to the Pennsylvania border. Others were riding in Erie, PA all weekend and beyond.
At the clubhouse, the food plates and trays were a constant all weekend. Shrimp, scallops wrapped in bacon, mini weenies wrapped in bread dough, spicy sausage balls, various potato skins loaded with goodies, stuffed mushrooms, stuffed hot peppers and even trays of Limburger and onion on rye and Bier Koire on crackers. For supper, three pork tenderloins along with kraut, potatoes, various salads and a variety of tasty desserts. The Romans didn't eat this good, a true belly buster weekend.
The kid's room was all redone over the summer months, so Saturday, Bill and Joani Eastley went to Ridgeway and purchased a new color TV-VCR and a stereo to load up their new entertainment center. When the young ones came in from riding, everything was hooked up and running.
Thanks to Jim and Cathy Wright, who now reside in Florida, on Marco Island, we awoke each morning to smoked sausage, home fries with onions and peppers, eggs to order, toast, juices, hot chocolate and coffee, "GREAAAAT"!
During the days, we shared homemade ham 'n bean, chilis, pastas and even Chinese foods and many pizzas and the club was decorated with new glitter snow flakes and New Year stuff.
The grounds were littered with shiny new sleds and a fair amount of four wheelers and I did overhear much bartering on used machinery among members since some kids graduated into larger sleds and youngsters were in line to buy up used mini machines. Some deals were for free. Now that's a deal.
Joani spent most of the weekend with ladies and kids helping. They were making necessity gift kits for homeless people to be given to various city shelters to be passed out. Snowseekers thinking of others and reaching out to help. What a considerate group of people -- Snowseekers.
The Thursday following, the club's general membership meeting was presided over by Rich Hayes. All meetings take place at the Kaufman House in Zelienople, PA. There were about thirty members present.
We were told the By-Laws Committee had finalized a rough draft of the updated By-Laws of which a copy will be sent to each member along with their newsletter. After their final input, they will vote on acceptance or rejection of the final draft.
Sandy Mueller reported the clubs scrapbook and club of the year applications are near completion and discussion was had on Zelienople's Horse-Trading Days food booth which she chairs. This is one of our club fundraisers. She and her committees do a great job.
Today's date is January fourteenth and our end of the state hasn't received much snow yet. Seems unnatural, but we have no control over it. Some of our favorite places to travel to haven't had much either.
It was also reported that Ginny Kline, of our club and PSSA, is getting better after her operation and we are all thankful for that.
When winters are short on snow, it gives us snowmobilers a chance to catch up on things like home projects, visiting more with family at home and maybe even doing something for someone else. It also allows a lot of time to reflect on winters past, places we rode, things we saw, people we met and friends we have made along the way. Thirty years can give a person a long list of memories to help fill in the gaps of no snow days. Memories like your first ride, the first time you introduced your family to their first ride, then a friend, or a long list of them. Remember when you formed or joined a club, then an association. Remember how good it felt the first time you helped on a trail cleaning or built a bridge or started sticking up for your sport or attended a meeting to fight for it. Remember the aches and pains when you rode too far too early in the season. How about the time you were lost or thought you couldn't make it back in the blizzard. The sky, the stars at night and the white silence. Think about your first race with a friend, the ones you won and lost.
Remember the joys of winter's beauty, the feel of snow flakes on your tongue or eye lashes, the first thrill that caused a chill up your spine, the gurgle of a brook as it cascaded over ice crystals, the moon making diamonds of snow flakes, the taste of food cooked over an open fire, the excitement that came when you held the throttle open long enough to feel you were at someone else's mercy, the bend you thought you might not make and the one you didn't. Remember that special person who helped you when you were broke down or gave you directions when you were lost. (Confused?) The time they wouldn't stop and you thought your bladder would burst. The joy of seeing lights in the distance after that too long of a ride at night. The excitement of the kids at a Safe Snowmobiler class.
Remember the time you traveled beyond your limits to get to where the snow was. No matter, as soon as your gear was unloaded, you were no longer weary, but ready to ride. Remember the dread the first time you ventured onto untracked ice, your first experience with winter fog or that sudden white out you thought would never end.
Remember your first fowled plug, broken belt, blown engine, the time your track locked up, or you met another sled in a blind corner, the near miss, the first time you left your sled, airborne, at the mercy of the woods, and where it grew trees.
Remember the creeks and rivers you've crossed on ice, and sometimes-open water, your first encounter with slush, or the time you had to travel on bare road or streets to get back. The trail buddy or lady who snored too loud -- too long. The beauty of furred or feathered things in their woods you watched and marveled at, and left unmolested. How about the biggest bon fire you ever saw in winter, the ice sculptures and snow castles, the dog sled teams, the start and finish lines, the times you sang out loud while riding. What about that hemlock stand, burdened with snow, you could hardly get through. The first time out west in a forever meadow or hill climb, the beauty above timberline. Hoarfrost. Ice crystals. Riding in the clouds. Our state and nations winter wonders. Beauty beyond imagination. The times while riding, you said thanks God out loud, without a hint of embarrassment.
The times you hauled food to animals and birds in winter extremes or hand fed a deer. A visit at a stop to an outhouse, minus twenty degrees. Your first overnight outdoors in winter or the tour that took you town to town, motel to motel, restaurant to restaurant. The one with sixty or a hundred snow machines parked outside, the cracklin' fire in the hearth, the camaraderie, the laughter, the joy of being warm, close, sharing a drink. The time on top of the mountain, atop your sled when the eagle was soaring beneath you. The time you rode all day, great snow, warm weather, no gloves, jacket open. How about the time a connector trail was opened to a place you always wanted to travel to. Remember when it was only a dream or fantasy that you would some day be able to ride town to town, city to city, county to county, state to state, etc. legally. Remember ice water over top of your boots, the time you visited a trappers cabin, traveled with an Indian, saw your first hydro electric dam, rode your sled on a glacier, rode your sled to a sacred place and was awestruck, or why didn't I bring matches.
Remember the time I could have written all night, the pen ran out of ink. Could have filled thirty more pages about thirty years of snowmobile memories.
Your personal file, titled memory, is always there and with a little prodding, you can thumb through the thousands of pages, and pick out the ones you favor, the ones that make you forget for a millisecond, wars, 9-11, terrorists and others who would take away your God given or legal rights. Oh well, another time, when I find my other pen.
J. Mueller
P.S. Remember the time...........ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!
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