Mountain Memories -- Steel Saucer Sled

What was it every Appalachian kid dreamed about this time of year? Santa? Well, maybe. But what was the most important thing? Snow!

Snow--and lots of it--meant we could get out of school early for Christmas vacation. Snow meant we could have our fill of snowcream. But, most importantly, for some of us, it meant going sledding on the biggest hillside (or mountainside) we could find.

Near the bottom of the hill

I will never forget the Christmas morning my brother and I awoke to find a shiny, silver saucer sled under the Christmas tree. Now, we always got gifts from Santa, but they were rarely as awesome as that sled. Also, a deep snow had fallen on the mountain that week and still covered the mountain behind our house. We barely contained ourselves long enough to get bundled up before my brother grabbed the sled and shot out the back door.

My brother, Larry, being six years older, had control of the sled. He climbed up the hill where the garden is planted during the summer. That means it was mostly cleared of vegetation. I said mostly. Unfortunately, there were usually some corn stalks sticking up several inches, partially hidden by the snow. Also, the rows were a bit lumpy where mounds of dirt had been hoed across the hill.

Larry made it to the top, right next to a fence that separated our property from the family cemetery on the other side. He plopped down on the sled, grabbed hold of the handles, and rocked until the sled let go and flew down the mountain.

Coming down the hill

He screamed, "Woo-hoo," as he picked up speed. About that time, he hit one of those aforementioned protruding cornstalks and tumbled head over sled the rest of the way down the hill. I thought he would be a snowman, rolled up into the snow when he got to the bottom.



I squealed with laughter. Mom just squealed.

He built up so much speed as he rolled, that he didn't stop as the yard leveled out. He whammed into the back of the house with a big thud.

That's how our sled got its first dent.

We spent the day hiking up that hillside and sliding down. Often we took flight as we hit a cornstalk. Sometimes, we hit and tumbled. Each time we hit a row or built up dirt under the snow, we bounced on the steel sled. Our rears ached. It didn't matter. We laughed until our stomachs hurt. We mostly laughed at each other.

Taking flight as we hit a bump

After hours of trekking up that mountain, my face as red as Rudolph's nose and my fingers and feet numb from the cold, I decided it was time to take a break to eat and warm up. My brother continued sledding.

As the sun set behind the mountains and visibility became dim, which happens early in the mountains in winter, my mom went to the back door to call Larry inside for the day.

He ignored her.

As she started inside the house, she yelled up to him at the top the hill, next to the fence around the cemetery, "Larry, you'd better get inside before that little boy in the cemetery decides to ride on that sled with you."

He still ignored her as he completed his slide down the hill, grabbed the sled, and headed back up to the top.

Mom shook her head and came back inside.

A few minutes later we heard a loud crash into the back of the house. The door flew open and my brother whizzed into the house, slamming the door behind him. He stood in the doorway to the living room all red, covered in snow, panting, and staring with eyes as big as snowballs. He didn't say a word, just stood there.

He never told us what happened. However, Mom never had to tell him to come in before dusk ever again. As soon as the sun got near the ridge, he was inside, with the back door locked.


Did you have a saucer sled when you were a kid? Or did you use something else as a sled--like a car hood? Where did you ride it? Did you have a fabulous hill to slide down? Were there any wild adventures?

I'd love to hear your stories.

My brother, Larry, at the
bottom of the hill.
You can barely see the fence
to the cemetery