Turkeys and Toast
I am out at the local hill, teaching the oldest one to get ready for alpine ski racing. It's something I enjoyed as a kid and what else am I going to pass on to him? Soccer is cheap; I'm shit at soccer. Alpine skiing is expensive, but it's what I'm good at, and what makes me happy. I decided that since the missus is pulling in that second income that was missing while she raised the littlest one, I can forget extra classes in the winter holiday and start family classes of what has already become an edict, "No stright-liing - if you want to go fast get on those rails!" (It makes sense if you're a skier).
The hill that lets us get to the hill and back in time for afternoon obligations is close, but not a minimal hill. so the young people who have come up there with no park, and elitism in racing (those douche-bags...but what alpine racer at a public hill isn't a douche?), the only option is either carving trenches in the black runs, or butters on a snowboard on the blues all day long.
There is even a local fashion. A wild racing board, but with extreme angles with free-ride bindings and boots for the black and blue runs. And, I shit you not, Adidas track pants and skinny alpine ski pants for the serious snowboard butterer. The amplitude is not too impressive, but I suspect that these guys who get dropped off by their moms in the morning, and spend 7 hours doing, they are gong to get the flick in, and get some height.
Anyway, my winter is slamming around a hill with some decent pitches that aren't long enough to get to speed while turning. You can pole for the life of you and straight it, and get to speed, but then you're carving into the transition. The face itself is short. So perfect for the little guy (6-years old) to learn how to run rails on the face of a windy, icy face. I must admit that I feel like I am at work, as he gets faster, I say "Give 'Er" a lot, since I want the skiing to get up to speed, Why did we even buy good equipment and a good helmet for anyway, right?
The whole reason for the title of Turkeys and Toast, is that the local kid, dropped in the morning and picked in the evening has only two options: butter, or carve. So the nick-name, butter your toast or carve your turkey --> Turkeys and Toast.
The hill that lets us get to the hill and back in time for afternoon obligations is close, but not a minimal hill. so the young people who have come up there with no park, and elitism in racing (those douche-bags...but what alpine racer at a public hill isn't a douche?), the only option is either carving trenches in the black runs, or butters on a snowboard on the blues all day long.
There is even a local fashion. A wild racing board, but with extreme angles with free-ride bindings and boots for the black and blue runs. And, I shit you not, Adidas track pants and skinny alpine ski pants for the serious snowboard butterer. The amplitude is not too impressive, but I suspect that these guys who get dropped off by their moms in the morning, and spend 7 hours doing, they are gong to get the flick in, and get some height.
Anyway, my winter is slamming around a hill with some decent pitches that aren't long enough to get to speed while turning. You can pole for the life of you and straight it, and get to speed, but then you're carving into the transition. The face itself is short. So perfect for the little guy (6-years old) to learn how to run rails on the face of a windy, icy face. I must admit that I feel like I am at work, as he gets faster, I say "Give 'Er" a lot, since I want the skiing to get up to speed, Why did we even buy good equipment and a good helmet for anyway, right?
The whole reason for the title of Turkeys and Toast, is that the local kid, dropped in the morning and picked in the evening has only two options: butter, or carve. So the nick-name, butter your toast or carve your turkey --> Turkeys and Toast.
posted by Colin at 6:30 AM
<< Home