About
twenty years ago, my oldest daughter, Meagan,
received a runner sled for Christmas. We were at the
ranch in Wyoming and early snowstorms had polished
the roads along the foothills into a solid sheet of
ice. For sledding, it was the perfect storm. After
Christmas breakfast, we filled the pickup with kids
and sleds (or sled substitutes), and drove to the
top of the hill behind the house for some redneck
bobsledding.
My brother, Blaine, slid first in the calf sled he
dug out of the calving barn. He banged off a
summer’s worth of dust, manure, and some dried
after-birth before crawling into the black plastic
box. Sitting upright, he reached back and dug his
Handy-Andy protected fingers in the ice to steer and
brake. When he gave a nod, we gave him a shove. The
vibration of the hard plastic across the ice made
more noise than speed and the cotton glove brakes
only lasted one run before his fingers wore through.
We abandoned the calf sled after the first run.
Next up was Meagan’s sled. Dick, my brother-in-law,
balanced the sled on his hip as he trotted up to
speed. With a crash, he belly flopped onto the sled
and shot down the ice like a rocket. Within seconds
he zoomed out of sight around the first corner
leaving a contrail of ice and snow. Suddenly, he
burst into view on the second straight away before
disappearing around the second corner for the final
drop to the Pass Creek Road. It was amazing!
Speechless and inspired, we hopped in the pickup and
raced to pick up Uncle Dick.
To be fair and because it was her Christmas sled,
next we loaded up Meagan and her cousins and gave
them a shove. A couple collisions with the snow
banks sent mittens, hats and snow boots scooting
down the road and this quickly dampened our
mini-bobsledder’s enthusiasm, so the warm air
blowing out of the defroster vents became more
inviting than sliding on the ice. Our Norman
Rockwell outing then morphed into a sledding contest
between Meagan’s father and her uncles.
After a dozen runs, we figured the two corners on
our hill blocked us from reaching terminal velocity,
so we moved a couple miles up the creek where the
road makes a straight half-mile plunge off the X—X
hill. GPS technology wouldn’t be developed for
twenty years so we clocked our speed by chasing the
bobsledder with the pickup. The speedometer
suggested we hit 70 M.P.H.! (I say “suggested”
because in the feed pickup engine vibration caused
the needle to jump erratically once we passed 40.)
You cannot possibly imagine the thrill of lying
prone on a $29 sled made in China, and zooming along
with your belly three inches off the ice and hitting
speeds where the snot instantly freezes to your
upper lip. Life is great when you are a country kid.
One might say such sledding was dangerous, but I
disagree. Of all the plates and screws which hold my
body together, not a one was earned on a runner
sled. Charles A. Lindbergh explained it best when he
said, “I would rather by far die on a mountainside
than in bed. What sort of a man would live where
there is no daring?” This brings me to my point. In
free-market capitalism, America’s founding
principle, daring innovators accept and exchange
risk for the opportunity to succeed. When government
steps in to prop up the losers and hold down the
winners, the system collapses and guarantees an
equal abundance of misery for all. This is exactly
where America is today. We have morphed from rugged,
daring individualism into a nation of pansies who
demand government remove all risk and pain from our
lives. If you think I am being facetious, consider
this: In December, Beaver Borough, Pennsylvania,
banned sledding on one hill, prohibited it for
non-residents on another, and passed rules requiring
children under 12 to wear a helmet. What would
Charles Lindbergh think?
In my three terms in the Montana House, I have seen
dozens of bills such as the primary seat-belt law,
helmet laws, and cell phone bans, intending to
protect us from ourselves. After being voted down,
these nanny state laws are repeatedly re-introduced
until they eventually slip through. Once enacted,
government power, the entity George Orwell labeled
“Big Brother”, grows relative to individual freedom
and another piece of America is lost.
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