Snowmobiling blues...

Winter of 97, we got powder and drifts,10 and 12 feet high, highly unusual here on the flat-lands. That was the same year I think, Extra 12 suspensions came out, and the big-inch Polarises, and 2" paddle tracks.
I was wrenching for a Polaris dealer, and got to test-drive a few of those. Lordy those brutes could climb. I was 44 and stamina-wise many times the man then as now,and those brutes could tucker a guy out..... but man what fun in that powder. I remember topping this one crest, going too fast to stop, and the crest was actually a cliff, and it was straight down maybe 8 ft on the other side with a bathtub-full of powder down there. It's absolutely amazing the many thoughts that race thru your mind when it looks like you are about to destroy the bosses brand new sales-stock,lol.
I had repaired enough sleds to know this was about to get expensive. In slo-mo time, I ran thru the options and decided the best course of action, for my face and body, was to just let go of the handlebars as we crested the peak, and lean back as far as I could, and hope my boots stayed in the stirrups. And at that moment my mind saw this from afar, and it looked totally ridiculous as the snomobile got air with seemingly no pilot. We crested more or less level, with my weight far to the rear and soared thru the air, and smashed into the drift on the other side, more or less not even touching the bathtub at the bottom. The sudden resistance flung me forward, the stirrups held, and flying in slo-mo, I was able to land my hands back on the grips, and mash the throttle,as my body was crashing forward; and so prevent destroying the windshield, As the 2" paddles dug in; what a rush, they launched me straight into the next, slightly smaller, wall. Oh boy; here we go again! whoop-whoop!