The 'Ol Bubbletops - > From Jeff Metz - The Scars Remain The Same

"I have a very strange story for you Larry. My family started in the sport of snowmobiling in 1969 when I was a young teenager. Our brand of choice – Polaris. My father was good friends with “Bud” Wieman of WSCA, Vintage Sleds of America, and the Hall of Fame. His brand of choice – Ski Doo.

One day Bud’s son, Craig, and I were riding all day long as we would when you have a day off of school, it happened to be a semester break day. We were stopped in a local Franksville Park working on a friend’s sled. Some of the old iron was not too reliable. In drives the father of one of our school mates. His brand of choice – Artic Cat. Mr. Jacob’s challenged my friend saying, “Where is this hot Ski Doo I keep hearing about?”

I was oval racing in the USSA in the Junior Class and Craig asked me to race Mr. Jacobs because I had more experience. So here I am on a bright yellow bubble Ski Doo with a fast 399 motor, totally stock, just a well put together engine. Mr. Jacobs and I rode down to one end of the park, turned around together and raced the length of the park probably a good 1/4 of a mile. The yellow Oly came in first. Mr. Jacobs then said lets start from a dead stop. So we did. The rubber track of the Ski Doo beat the cleated Artic Cat the second run down. On the third run we turned around together and raced a last time. I had Mr. Jacobs beat by quite a few lengths at about half the park. I happened to run into a real icy section of snow.

Seeing how there were not the advancements in carbide in 1970, the old Oly did not turn so good on the icy snow. Here started my delema. I was heading straight towards a slide, cemented quite well in the frozen ground. I cranked the skies fully to the left. I almost made it. I hit a sand box at full speed, my guess in the low to mid 70s.

Needless to say the sand box did not move.

I hit the handle bars with my chest and my right knee. I can remember sailing in the air, landing on my back and sliding for quite a distance. I made out better than the sled. The sled was bent up almost at a 90 degree angle.

Here starts the good parts.

Who picks me up in the Caledonia Volunteer Resque Squad, but Lee Ulcek, one of our fellow Polaris Racers. All the way to the hospital, Lee kept repeating, “That’s what you get for driving those foreign brand machines!” You have to remember, I am a young 14 year old. I felt absolutely terrible that I wrecked Bud Wieman’s sled. Bud taught me a valuable lesson that I remember to this day. Bud told me that he can replace the sled but he could not replace me if I got seriously hurt. Now people will talk as people will, but by Monday  morning when I hobble into school a little bruised, the story had got twisted around that I was killed on my race sled and it blew up in flames. And you will never guess what was the center piece at the Snowmobile Club’s end of the year party – a bright yellow bent up Ski Doo Oly ski. And to this day, there is still yellow paint on the south east corner of the sand box in Franksville Park.

And by the way, I have not been on a Ski Doo since.

Jeff Metz "