Goodbye, old Friends...

Well, Adam's skis are in our dumpster. Man, if these skis could talk, the stories they could tell.

Hmmm.

Wait, what was that? Did I hear something? Was that the skis I just heard speaking from the bindings?? Hold on a sec, let me get something to write with, this is definitely a momentous occasion!!

"Well, Adam. I guess this is good-bye. Ohh, the years we've had! 12 glorious years! I still remember it like it was yesterday when you bought me, back in '96 at a Ski Swap in Salt Lake, right after you got home from your mission. You had such ambition, such aspirations; I could sense that as you eyed me. I knew it was speed you were after when you picked me. Measuring in at 200 cm meant that we would be skiing FAST. I hoped you were ready for it.

Our first trip together with your college buddies assured me that you knew exactly what you had bought. You were an aggressive, adventurous skier, with a need for speed, and I was absolutely up for the challenge. The sheer exhiliration of taking off down a powdery mountain, with you at the helm and me as your ship, was just what I was after. I kept pushing the limits of speed, and you would accept, and push me even faster. The steep grade of the mountain didn't slow you down, and we were quickly able to navigate the fastest way down the slope, agily handling sharp turns and catching some serious air off the jumps.

I knew I had met my one true owner.

We skied everywhere together: Alta, Brighton, Powder Mountain, Snow Basin, Deer Valley, Solitude, Snowbird, Nordic Valley, The Canyons, even a small resort in Virgina called Wintergreen (we both agreed those Eastern slopes don't hold a candle to the Rockies).

There was a time, however, when you left me. Abandoned me in the closet to rent a snowboard. I understand, you needed to explore and I let you have your rebel year to test out the latest snazzy thing. I always knew you would come back to me, and you did. What we had together was more than a trend, the latest fad. What we had was true brotherhood.

I knew it was forever when you sold your own plasma so that we could be together. Only true brothers would do that for skiing, and you did it more than once. You sacrificed your actual plasma to get the 27 bucks it cost for a lift ticket back then.

And oh, don't think I have forgotten about November 1997! You have ME to thank for your happy marriage, you know. Yes, yes, I'm talking about the annual Thanksgiving break Ski Day at Brighton. There was some chemistry happening there on the ski slopes, my friend, and I was there for it all. I was there for the careful maneuvering to make sure that girl would sit on the same ski lift as you. I was there helping you show off all your best tricks (the Double Daffy, the Iron Cross, and the Backscratcher, our FAV!) as she watched on in admiration.

When the babies started coming, I admit, I got a little worried. I mean, don't think I don't know what happens to most of my kind. We get tossed in the attic or a closet and forgotten about until a decade or so later when parents finally agree their kid is old enough to try skiing. But not you. No, I believe I witnessed your proudest moments as a father as you've taught Lizzie and Eli to love the sport we love. And my, how fast they've learned! Why, Lizzie and Eli were each only 2 years old when you put them on little bitty skis and guided them to ski inside your bigger skis. (We both know that I practically taught them myself - you're welcome.) And how proud of them I was this past Christmastime when I saw Lizzie crouched down racing you down the slope, and Eli shouting with the thrill of the speed as he careened down a hill. Oh, they'll do you proud. Mark my words, they'll do you proud.

When my tips started splitting, I knew the end was coming. But I knew you wanted to hold on for one last run together, and I can't tell you how much it meant for me that we achieved our lifetime ambition: skiing the Jupiter Bowl at Park City Resort. We'd been hearing all our buddies brag about it for years. We knew the reputation it had as being the biggest backcountry expert bowl in the state. Oh how we longed to ski it!! The day dawned with a bite in the air, and flurries in the sky. But once we sailed above the treeline in the lift, we came out of the clouds and into clear, blue, sunny skies. It was a dream come true, for both of us, and it lived up to every legend we'd heard. That, my friend, was skiing.

But now, I am old. You have nursed me back to health many times after we had run-ins with a few too many rocks, tediously dripping P-tex into my jagged wounds. But my wounds are too large and gaping to heal now. It is time. Time to move on. I wish you the happiest with your next pair of skis; may they treat you well for many years ahead. Goodbye."