Call Me a Wimp...

Maybe it's my "old" age, but I've decided I'm not very adventurous or daring. Over the weekend, Nate and I drove up to West Yellowstone to go snowmobiling with some friends (who from here on out will be refered to as "the experts"). Now mind you, neither Nate nor I had ever even sat on a snowmobile, let alone rode one. We were excited though for a fun weekend away and took "the experts" up on their offer to go ride with them. We were the only two "novices" in the group; the other six ride constantly and are much more willing than I am to go up crazy steep hills (and back down them) at heart-pumping speeds. I told them after the first day of riding that I can get a much bigger "rush" by finding a good deal at Baby Gap. The first day, I managed to run into a tree (going very slowly, easy to fix), tip the machine as I tried to turn uphill, and get thrown from the snowmobile-it flew through the trees one way, I flew the opposite. Luckily I wasn't too hurt (emotionally maybe, but not physically). Nate had only one incident that involved holding onto a tree for dear life. We had fun with "the experts," but I don't think we'll be buying a snowmobile in the near (or distant) future.