The winter of 1970 in Ithaca, N.Y. provided perfect conditions for bombing around on our now vintage-looking Fox Trac snowmobile. Thus, the 11-year-old competent, confident, and cute commander of this carriage needed the proper winter attire. So my mom (riding in the cart with my brother) and I went shopping for a “snowsuit.” Much to my dismay, we found one. Yes, the hideous thing you see me wearing in the picture.
Really, Mom!? Neon yellow!? Can’t I get one in a man’s color like black, Navy blue, or rich chocolate brown!?
All my pleading for anything-but-yellow fell on deaf—but wise—ears. We came home with my new “banana suit” and, like it was yesterday, I remember why Mom chose it (and, no, it wasn’t so she could find me in a snowstorm!):Continue Reading