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- Childhood funs on
sleds now a collector's passion
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- A passion for old sleds began in Michigan
winters
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By Ken Linna
- My name is Ken Linna and I live in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.
I grew up in South Range, Michigan, a small town in the state's
far north region.
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- We grew up on a hill (3rd Street) and with plenty of long
winters up here, as kids we spent many long and exciting hours
sledding. There was no television until the late '50s, no video
games, and it was a five mile walk to the nearest movie theater
(which we had no money for), so believe me, sledding was a large
part of our winter recreation.
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- As soon as supper was eaten and our homework was done, out
the door we went
Considering the winter apparel we had in those days it is a wonder
how we survived. And yet, I don't to recall the cold ever bothering
me as a kid.
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- We had two serious sledding hills in town on 3rd Street and
2nd so there was always rivalry between the two different groups
of kids who used the hills. I say "kids" because girls
were just as much a part of the sledding as boys.
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- To determine who had the fastest sled was a constant test
of skills and conditions. "Ditching", the practice
of trying to force a competitor into the snowbank, was standard
practice, so the cool crisp, taste of snow was a regular part
of our diet.
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- The traditional start was to run holding the sled in front
of you until enough speed was attained to launch yourself belly-first
onto it. Quite often a smaller kid with a small or short sled
had the advantage over a larger, and usually older kid - at the
start anyway.
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Sometimes. just
the mass of the bigger kid was enough for him to achieve higher
speed further down the hill. After the launch, you would soon
hear a yell and have your leg grabbed and yanked with enough
force to to send you crashing into the snowbank. And woe be unto
anyone who happened to be walking back up the hill at the same
time. Many a tear fell over tender ankles that had been clipped
by the metal point on the runner of the sleds.
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- With the advent of spring and a few unsuccessful attempts
to sled on the light snow that exposed the black-top, we would
all make vows to be even faster the next winter. Our sleds then
went back into storage in the barn for the much appreciated (although
brief) summer months.
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- Like so many of us, there was a long spell of years where
sledding was relegated to a fond memory. Getting a job, getting
married, kids, mortgages, dogs etc. always seemed to take up
what time we spent awake. By the time my own kids were big enough
for sledding, plastic was all the rage. Nobody used the old sleds
anymore.
Time marched on.
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- As a heavy equipment operator for the City of Hancock, Michigan,
our work garage was also the collection site for the annual spring
cleanup in town. Old building materials, furniture, scrap metal
etc. could be dropped off there.
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- One night I was at the garage watering up my sweeper and
looking in wonder at the large pile of scrap metal that had been
growing higher every day. I shone my flashlight at the pile to
see what was actually there and much to my delight I saw what
appeared to be an intact sled up high on the pile. Risking life
and limb, I climbed up and rescued the sled.
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- Amazingly, it was in fine condition, no bent metal, no missing
wood, but weathered to the point that there were no recognizable
markings or logos on it that I could see.
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- Once I got it home. I thought it might be nice to sand it
down and paint it to freshen it up. When I began lightly sanding
the center board I noticed some sort of design showing up.
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Apparently,
from being painted on, the design had taken the longest to wear
off and acted as a sort of raised-relief on the wood. I was thrilled
to discover an outline of what would have been, in the fifties,
a modern locomotive. The word STREAMLINER was inscribed across
the train's side. It was riding on rails with light shining from
the headlight.
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- Not knowing what color it had been originally, I chose red,
white and black to detail the original design and also re-painted
the rest of the old sled. The result was great and made me want
to try another. I began asking friends and co-workers if they
had any old sleds laying around that they might want to get rid
of and since this is major winter country they soon started appearing.
Some were in great shape, some were basket cases - but I took
all I could get.
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- The rest, as they say, is history. I now have a collection
of over 200 sleds in various states of repair. If any of the
graphics are visible I leave them alone but if all evidence of
the artwork is gone I take poetic license with them, decorating
them as I see fit. I also have a few wooden toboggans and also
some older metal flyers in the "saucer" style.
My parents, usually my mother, often had the foresight to take
photos of us five kids
(three boys and two girls) and they are some of my favorite treasures.
One delightful picture shows my brother Steve, who we lost in
Viet Nam at age 20, standing with his sled in front of him, his
tongue firmly planted on the metal runner.
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- Anyone who has ever had their flesh glued to metal on a bitterly
cold winter day knows the feeling. (Think "doubledog dare"
in the 1983 movie A Christmas Story.)
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- It seems that we don't have the same kind of incredibly snowy
winters that we had when we were young - or maybe we just don't
know how to enjoy them the same way anymore. Kids today don't
appear to have nearly as much fun as we used to for hours on
end with a simple sled or toboggan, even with all the hi-tech
boards and motorized machines available now.
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- I'm grateful for all the happy memories - even the ones that
included a really sore tongue.
Photos:
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- Steve Linna, far right, planting his tongue on the
metal runner of the sled.
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- Steve at 4, fully engrossed in snowy slopes
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- A Streamliner - one of Ken's many successful restoration
projects.
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