Post by joeolympique on Dec 23, 2021 23:55:13 GMT
It's that time of year again. I penned this in December of 2005. How the years fly by. I'd been a board member for about one month. I stumbled upon you guys after I picked up a couple of old Nordics. I was ski doo at heart since I was thirteen years old. That's when the 70 335 arrived as a Christmas gift. I knew nothing and had done nothing when I joined. But with all the help, advice, and support from members past and present I was able to fashion a very satisfying hobby and wrangle up some pretty good sleds. So hats off to all you fellas and best wishes for a happy holiday season. High five for you Monty for all that you do for us. You da best !
Thanks muchly, Joe Olympique
T’was the night before Christmas and across the snow belt,
A white blanket was falling, please don’t let it melt,
Pile it up high two feet would be great,
Show blowing the driveway will just have to wait.
Throw open the doors of those garages and sheds,
Shake from their slumbers the sleepy old sleds,
The rust has been busted the chassis sand blasted,
Amazing how long these old heaps have lasted.
It’s been a long season without any snow,
Spinning on jack stands is as far as they go,
White fields and trails now calling us back,
Cheap gasoline is all that we lack.
Rise and shine early from our warm comfy beds,
Visions of trail blazing dance in our heads,
Carving up meadows and laying down tracks,
Did I mention cheap gas is all that we lack?
Quick and nimble over the frozen ground,
More fun with your cloths on can’t be found,
Who needs the fat man and a bunch of reindeer,
The aging snomos are back in high gear.
Olympiques and élans are relics of time,
The elephant Nordic a favorite of mine,
A cigarette lighter? That must be a joke!
With big winter mittens how the hell can I smoke?
We listen to forecasts and hope for the best,
We’re all mental cases so say the rest,
Spirits are lifted with a turn of the weather,
Blizzards and Alpines don’t ride together.
Eyeballs peeled for virgin snow,
Any little place old yellow can go,
Through the bushes or between the trees,
Standing up tall or down on one knee.
Dealership attics hide stuff obsolete,
Treasures we need to make our babies complete,
Scavenger hunting for hours on line,
A box from the postman and I’m feeling just fine.
NOS parts warm our hearts,
As our buggies are reincarnated,
Looking like new, that old Ski-doo,
Like the day it was factory crated.
Restoring old Bombies becomes an obsession,
The finished product a prized possession,
They’re in the garage each day on display,
The unsuspecting look on in dismay.
Middle aged men recall younger days,
Recapture lost youth in two cycle smoke haze,
The junior sled heads round out the crowd,
Good clean fun, their Dads can be proud.
They just don’t get it dear girlfriends and wives,
So cost is kept secret with little white lies,
An e-bay addiction is money well spent,
Please leave enough to cover mortgage or rent.
The numbers keep adding up on the fleet,
I pray for snow, but I’ll settle for sleet,
Thumb to the throttle an ear-shattering din,
The cold weather sissies shut themselves in.
A brisk winter evening, a bright quarter moon,
Temps below zero frostbite setting in soon,
The fields sparkle silver in the creeping twilight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Thanks muchly, Joe Olympique
T’was the night before Christmas and across the snow belt,
A white blanket was falling, please don’t let it melt,
Pile it up high two feet would be great,
Show blowing the driveway will just have to wait.
Throw open the doors of those garages and sheds,
Shake from their slumbers the sleepy old sleds,
The rust has been busted the chassis sand blasted,
Amazing how long these old heaps have lasted.
It’s been a long season without any snow,
Spinning on jack stands is as far as they go,
White fields and trails now calling us back,
Cheap gasoline is all that we lack.
Rise and shine early from our warm comfy beds,
Visions of trail blazing dance in our heads,
Carving up meadows and laying down tracks,
Did I mention cheap gas is all that we lack?
Quick and nimble over the frozen ground,
More fun with your cloths on can’t be found,
Who needs the fat man and a bunch of reindeer,
The aging snomos are back in high gear.
Olympiques and élans are relics of time,
The elephant Nordic a favorite of mine,
A cigarette lighter? That must be a joke!
With big winter mittens how the hell can I smoke?
We listen to forecasts and hope for the best,
We’re all mental cases so say the rest,
Spirits are lifted with a turn of the weather,
Blizzards and Alpines don’t ride together.
Eyeballs peeled for virgin snow,
Any little place old yellow can go,
Through the bushes or between the trees,
Standing up tall or down on one knee.
Dealership attics hide stuff obsolete,
Treasures we need to make our babies complete,
Scavenger hunting for hours on line,
A box from the postman and I’m feeling just fine.
NOS parts warm our hearts,
As our buggies are reincarnated,
Looking like new, that old Ski-doo,
Like the day it was factory crated.
Restoring old Bombies becomes an obsession,
The finished product a prized possession,
They’re in the garage each day on display,
The unsuspecting look on in dismay.
Middle aged men recall younger days,
Recapture lost youth in two cycle smoke haze,
The junior sled heads round out the crowd,
Good clean fun, their Dads can be proud.
They just don’t get it dear girlfriends and wives,
So cost is kept secret with little white lies,
An e-bay addiction is money well spent,
Please leave enough to cover mortgage or rent.
The numbers keep adding up on the fleet,
I pray for snow, but I’ll settle for sleet,
Thumb to the throttle an ear-shattering din,
The cold weather sissies shut themselves in.
A brisk winter evening, a bright quarter moon,
Temps below zero frostbite setting in soon,
The fields sparkle silver in the creeping twilight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.