Forever Young

When I asked my friend if she would like to go tubing, she replied, “What? In the middle of the winter?” Apparently, we were both speaking different languages. I am a winter person who enjoys the occasional summertime activity, and my friend is a summer person who seems to enjoy wintertime activities as an afterthought. I ski; she kayaks. Snow excites me; a warm breeze makes her daydream. When I said “tubing,” I was referring to the act of riding rapidly down a snowy hill on a piece of rubber shaped like a donut; she imagined us floating down a frozen river in our swimming suits on pieces of rubber shaped like donuts. I suppose I could have cleared up any confusion by simply asking if she would like to go snow tubing, but I am male and it’s in my nature to resist clearing up any confusion.
After the confusion finally cleared, we agreed to plan a snow tubing trip with our spouses. Being the spry, young people we are, we chose to go tubing at a groomed hill, where all we had to do was hook our tubes to a tow rope and let it carry us to the top of the hill. Sure, it cost some money, and I’m not sure if the two hours of tubing were worth $20 (yes, I paid $20 per person to ride down a hill on a tube; I’m ashamed), but I wasn’t sore the next day from using muscles I only use while running up a snowy tubing hill.
As we stood in line waiting for a hook to take us up the hill, other tubers would look at us, wondering where our children were. But the joke was on them. We didn’t have any children. Between four twenty-something adults, there wasn’t a single child. Not even half. I must say our little group was quite the oddity. I almost felt like grabbing someone else’s kid and paying them to stay with us so we didn’t stick out.
Even though we were childless, we were giddy with tubing excitement. After sliding to the bottom of the hill, we would jump up and run (despite the sign that clearly read, “NO RUNNING”) to get in line again for the next ride. I think I saw my friend at one point shove a six-year-old out of the way trying to get to the front of the line. Or maybe that was me. Anyway, we were going to get our $20 worth of tubing that night one way or another.
I believe we set a speed record for tubing that night. Unfortunately, the Guiness Book of World Records staff wasn’t around and so we can’t prove that we were actually tubing at speeds of 70-80 mph. You’ll just have to take my word for it. By linking ourselves loosely to each other, we were able to kick and shove our neighbor’s tube down the hill, increasing our speed at alarming rates. We often overshot the small hills at the end, which were designed to slow tubes down. Those small hills proved no match for us.
If you are now jealous and want to try tubing for yourself, you have a few nearby choices: Gorgoza Park near Jeremy Ranch, Soldier Hollow near Heber, or the hill behind your house. The hill behind your house is the cheapest option, and there isn’t a fancy rope to pull you up. As far as the “upscale” hills go, I enjoy Soldier Hollow just a tad bit more than Gorgoza Park, but both will sate all your tubing desires. Hurry though; the weather is fixing to melt all the snow before we can really enjoy it this year. Before you know it, I’ll be a winter person writing about an occasional summertime activity.