Check out Blaster Arne Backstrom’s Patagonia Abassador profile.
During my earlier ski days, my family rolled up to the mountains in a rusty brown 1954 GMC bookmobile. It was a grotesque machine in both looks and mechanics, but every Friday night from December to April, that neurotic old vehicle delivered our family of five the 100 miles from Seattle to Crystal Mountain and provided lodging for the weekend. My sister and brother and I would sit at the table/bed in the back and Mom gripped the dash from the co-pilot position while Dad worked the shifter and struggled to manage 26,000 lbs of momentum with less than adequate brakes. It was an eyesore, scary to drive, cold, and smelled funny, but when it snowed two feet we laughed and said it was paradise. It wasn’t luxury living, but it brought the family together, and we skied hard. I probably wouldn’t have wished it back then, but those days seem to have set the tone for my life thus far, at least in spirit. I still do whatever it takes to ski as much as I can.
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