Downhill Doors

We were all young... fourth grade at the time I think. It took all 8 or 9 of us to carry the 60 lb. door up the snow covered hill, which took most of our lunch hour.  At that age, we all walked clumsily and probably looked awkward in those big rubber boots and the coats our parents bought us so big they would last three seasons. I can only imagine the trouble we would have been in if Sister Ellen Marie found out where we were and what we were doing. Holy crap...

   I heard that one of the older kids got the idea after seeing someone else take a car fender down the hill at incredible speeds, but apparently that didn't have the optimum shape, or the durability that was needed. But a Kelvinator refrigerator door was perfectly shaped, and durable as a freight truck. It really was the perfect sled for high speed downhill action, and this group of 10 year old hooligans was about to find out what high speed sled riding was really like. In fact, I highly doubt any of us have traveled that quickly on a sled since that day. The added weight that the refrigerator door had over the cheap red plastic discs when sent down a very steep hill (nearly 45 degrees in one place) really got it and its occupants moving!

   The foot long horizontal handle was removed which left a small indent in the door and two small holes... minor and insignificant given the size of the door. The smooth painted surface was slightly curved which made it strong enough to hold us all in the snow without denting. It didn't have the optimum seating arrangement. I barely remember what the thing looked like now, but I do remember clearly that it didn't have anything to hold onto.

   We nearly accidentally let it go down the hill by itself as we tried to get everyone on. It's slick surface on the compacted snow moved as easily as marbles on a granite counter top. Once we got on and a couple people started saying they were ready, it was game time... and little hands in big mittens started paddling us to the edge of the hill in what is now Gutknecht Arrowhead Park in Bel Ridge, Missouri. Back then it was still private property, and we would have surely been asked to leave if we were seen in this large front yard with two large ponds. But since the owner was gone was gone at work during the daytime, we were somewhat safe.

   Once we got the door over the edge, the rate at which we accelerated was unlike anything we had experienced. I can still remember the sound of the air rushing past my face as we went from 0 to get-me-off-this-thing in just a few seconds. I can still remember thinking "This is way too fast" immediately followed by "We aren't even close to top speed yet!"

   The steepest part of the hill, which is more down than it is flat, is only about ten feet long, but on this off-white behemoth of a sled, that was plenty of room to get moving at speeds that no child should ever endure on his catholic grade school lunch break. I remember at one point, just about when I thought we couldn't go any faster, I realized that there were no brakes, and no driver. We were now at the mercy of gravity, and I didn't see any sign that this was going to be good.

   At the bottom of the hill is one of two ponds on the property, and the winds had blown most of the snow off the thick ice on this day. When we got to the bottom of the main part of the hill, heading for this place I routinely fished in the summers, I expected us to slow down a bit, but we didn't. I almost think the wind was with us... we kept going at what was surely several hundred mph. One or two of my classmates had jumped ship near the top of the hill, and there were 6 or 7 of us left on this flat rocket and heading straight for the thick ice where I learned that I don't play hockey well. The bank of the lake is about 24" above the water level on this side, and the snow drifts added to the difference. When we hit the edge of this rise, we all left the surface of the door, and nothing kept it flat as it traveled through the air with its passengers hovering above it. The door landed on the ice on one of its edges just before we all bounced off it as our butts slammed down from outer space. Bodies went flying, screams rang through the air, and I can still remember the sound of the thick nylon winter coats as we all skidded across the icy surface like human curling stones. The only brakes we had were our cotton gloves and mittens, far from sufficient.

   I think we left the rocket ship there on the frozen lake surface, not far from where we found it before we drug it up the hill. We all laughed, compared notes verbally about how amazing that was, told each other repeatedly about how far we flew while we were in orbit, and assured each other that "I" was the fastest of all.

   We knew our time was running out, and we need not push our luck any further. I'm sure some of us actually thought that Sister Ellen Marie could hear our screams from the school playground, two blocks away. If she was paying attention, I really think she could have. We made our way back through the short stretch of woods and sneaked back up the small uphill driveway onto the school property. We all brushed off our catholic school uniform pants and our jackets to make sure we weren't wearing any signs of having just made sled riding history.

   From my mother's kitchen window I can see this particular hill... and I think about that ride often whenever the topic of crazy sled rides comes up. I just wish I knew where I could find a Kelvinator.