A VINATAGESLEDS.COM EXCLUSIVE REPORT

Filed by an Anonymous Coward

Editors Note: This showed up in my inbox and I ran it. That's all I know about it!

Hi Larry. Recently on Vintagesleds.com you reported a rumor that the Poirier Racing team (aka PoiBoys Racing) was building "several open mod scary beasts" for the upcoming season. One in particular I heard was being built for the sole purpose of taking on Team Johnson and their mighty Rampage sled head-on.

Soon after that report, I did some snooping and was able to take some secret pictures of the new IFS sled being built by Team Johnson. Since it was SO easy to steal photos of the Team Johnson sled, I was inspired to attempt to determine if the PoiBoys "scary beasts" were based in fact or simply the fruit of some lunatics imagination.

After some very sophisticated detective work, I was able to find out where the PoiBoys race shop was located. I took an able bodied assistant (who shall remain nameless) and made our way there. At the end of a long lane, I left my assistant and my truck hidden in a grove of trees and proceeded on foot to the shop. There didn't seem to be anybody around. I was able to take some shots through a shop window. My excitement grew as I saw what appeared to be four mod sleds and a piece of an old Polaris box marked "Top Secret". Could the rumors be true? I needed to have a closer look.

Perhaps on the verge of breaking one of the most important stories in vintage snowmobile racing (or a quick trip to jail for breaking & entering), I threw caution to the wind and decided to try and gain entry into the shop. To my utter amazement, the back door was open! Carefully, I went inside and put the door like I found it. It appeared someone was in the shop recently,and maybe they would be back soon... As soon as I got in I knew the rumors were true! All the sleds in the shop were mods with pipes sticking out everywhere! The one under the Polaris cover near that old "Top Secret" box even had pipes coming out of the wrong side! I was going to lift the cover and get a closer look when I heard some talking out side the door.

Uh-oh.

There was only one way out and no where to hide. Spotting a ladder leading to the attic, I quickly made my way up. Sure enough it was the PoiBoys. Evidently, they had just stepped out for a minute. Scared to death that they would find me, I cowered in the musty attic and wondered what my fate would be. Why so fearful? Let me describe these guys. The ring leader, Bob Poirier appears to be a chubby senior citizen. Don't let his appearance fool you. I watched him race last year. He's a, shall we say, "ambitious" competitor. At the last race in Wolf Lake, Darrell Saxton, a grizzled veteran himself, stared death in the face after being cut off by Bob. Next was Wayne Poirier, known as "The Arm". Many have seen him throw heavy objects very, very far at the racetrack with his frequent fits of rage. Last but not least is "Crazy" Chuckie Poirier. Known for his wild unpredictable temper, and for having such intensity on the track that he often forgets to stop after the checkered flag.

So picture this scene: I'm hiding in the attic just feet above these guys, and facing certain pummeling if they spot me, and maybe even jail time if they turn me into the authorities. I'm hanging on the the camera, trying to stop beads of sweat from falling down on them.

Then they do one of the weirdest things I've ever seen a bunch of racers do.

The PoiBoys joined hands and started chanting, "beat the johnson, beat the johnson, beat the johnson". Good Lord I thought. Have I walked into some bizarre gay sex club? Was this homosexual foreplay? I almost started to laugh. Until I noticed the sled right next to them was numbered 666. Maybe it wasn't a gay sex ritual. Maybe these guys are devil worshippers? They started again-"the pedersons should be afraid, the pedersons should be afraid, the pedersons should be afraid'. This was accompanied by much gleeful cackling and howlings of "Alright brew! Alright brew!" References to beer or what I don't know but if I were the pedersons, I would be concerned. This wasn't normal behavior. To my great relief the chanting and howling finally stopped.

But it quickly got stranger than I ever imagined. They each took an expansion chamber and put it to their lips. The horrible sounds emanating from those pipes made my hair stand on end. It was loud, rude and piercing. Oh the agony! Was this some kind of sick torture? Had they spotted me coming in and were now just screwing with me? I accidentally let out a groan from sheer, frightening volume of them blowing on those pipes!

I aimed the camera for one more picture when all hell broke loose.

Chuck had spotted me, and I soon knew why they called him "Crazy".

I jumped up. smashed my head on a rafter above my head, and took one fatal step backwards. I fell right on top of a sled, as though it was my trusty horse waiting to take me away to a safer place. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as the PoiBoys must have thought I was dead, or un conscience from the fall. That split second was all I needed.

I lept to my feet and made it to the door before they could set the pipes down! I heard an unbelievable commotion behind me. I ran, and ran like I've never run before! I screamed at my assistant: "Start the truck! Start the damn truck!"

I looked back to see an ax wielding Crazy Chuckie, Bob, and Wayne in hot pursuit. As I ran down the lane, they were joined by Rob Poirier.

My assistant had started the truck and came up close enough that I could dive into the pickup. We raced out of there with the PoiBoys chasing us, and clearly looking for blood. Mine.

So what did I learn from all this. Plenty. Never stand up fast in an attic space. If a door to a top-secret race shop is open, the occupants probably are not far away. I'm afraid of axe-wielding madmen. I'm not too old to fill my pants. The PoiBoys have some tricks up there sleeve.

It's going to be a good winter for racing.