By Kandace Chapple, GTWoman Editor
WE GREW UP
On snowmobiles. Weekends and evenings were spent outside sliding off the back of the slick seat of a 1981 Ski-Doo, trying to hang on to one another, riding double.
Of course, the point was to dump the other one off, pretend we didn’t notice and leave a sister in the field, enjoying a solo ride for a few glorious moments.
Alas.
The older we got, the more trouble we could come up with. We spent weekends snowmobiling out to sledding hills with a pull-behind trailer on skis stocked with firewood, hotdogs and Pepsi. Our mom did all the work then, and little did we know how much work that must have been. We were focused solely on building jumps big enough to break a leg.
Finally, we set out on day trips, where we didn’t fall asleep riding between our mother’s legs, our helmet hitting the handlebars. Then we became drivers… although we still had to share a sled.