The dislodged rear idler hit the frozen snow-pack with a thud that echoed disappointment and setback in the early light of the cold January morning. Somewhere in the plumes of two-stroke smoke, the early 70’s Arctic Cat Cheetah calmed from its high rpm roar to a sputtering idle, and from the haze a clearly disappointed figure emerged, plucking the split wheel from the snow with a hint of disbelief.

In hindsight, the failure from the nearly 40 something year-old snowmobile was not a great surprise. Reliability was never a strong suit for any of those early leaf spring snowmobiles; especially one which was rudely awakened from its multi-year slumber with several full-throttle track-stand warms ups in pre-dawn light. It was just a taste of things to come on what had started as an annual snowmobile ride in late January, to one of the largest vintage snowmobile gatherings in North America.

The journey is less than 40 miles, as a group of friends depart from the organizer’s rural/suburban home under the cover of darkness in hopes of making the vintage shindig in Waconia, Minnesota prior to the 11:30am parade of classic, aging and antique snowmobiles. First timers mutter under their breath, wondering why a crack of dawn departure is necessary for such a “short” ride. Veterans, however, hustled about, checking the clock and first hints of sunlight, knowing they were already under-the-gun in hopes of making the planned 11:30am arrival.

Just two miles into the ride, 19 leaf spring suspended snowmobiles rumble to a halt on the edge of a field, our departure point still visible in the distance as too is the Cheetah, still perched atop its track-stand. It’s a risky move, as seasoned leafers understand that the challenges associated with re-firing the collection of Walbro and Tillotson fed two-strokes is anything but a sure thing. A finicky Scorpion Stinger 340 adds credence to their wisdom, failing to crackle back to life after its brief two-mile journey.

It’s quickly surrounded by a group of shade-tree mechanics, wielding plug wrenches, starting fluid, and years of snowmobile where-with-all in hopes of breathing life back into the once proud machine, manufactured in Crosby, Minnesota. Amid the frenzy of recoil yanks, the smell of raw fuel and a few choice words, others hover on the fringe of the Scorpion operating table; joking, laughing and sharing stories of their personal vintage exploits. After nearly 30-minutes, the Stinger is declared unable to continue, and is left field-side to be retrieved later by its still proud owner.

To date, I posses seven “vintage” leaf spring snowmobiles in varying states of completeness. From one near perfect restoration, to several parts buggies, they lay scattered about my northern Minnesota farm, waiting for their next brief moment of on snow duty.

Interest in antique and vintage snowmobiles is currently soaring. Snowmobile enthusiasts of all ages have been bitten by the vintage bug and have been actively purchasing, restoring, racing, showing and riding snowmobiles from the early heydays of the sport. Be it admiration of those early and sometimes-innovative designs, to finally becoming a proud owner of a snowmobile they coveted from their youth, the reasons for the revived passion in vintage are many.

Some would say I’ve been bitten by the vintage resurgence whole-heartedly for some time now. I began coveting select models about 10 years ago when I participated in a grass roots cross-country race for pre 1974, single cylinder snowmobiles. Or perhaps it was when I finally acquired a mid-70s Arctic Cat I had hungered for as a youth. But as I think back to last winter’s Waconia ride, I find myself less excited about particular models from those early years, and instead filled with anticipation for the events and gatherings they have created.    

The sport of snowmobiling has its roots deeply entrenched into the social lives of winter enthusiasts and their families. During those early days, when practically everyone owned a snowmobile, the machine was merely the means to an end. It was a social networking tool that brought family and friends together for a day of conversation, bonfires and laughter in what would have otherwise been a long and cold winter. In some ways, it’s an aspect of our sport that has been lost over time, as machines become more and more reliable, faster and capable. Today it seems many snowmobilers are more concerned with how fast, how far or how technically adept their machine is versus who they ride with and the memories they make.

As we left the Scorpion along the edge of the field and managed to once again get the remaining 17 snowmobiles underway, the ride improved, and the orange hue of morning sun gave way to brilliant white light and above normal temperatures for the remainder of the day. In hindsight, I don’t recall much of the actual 40-mile ride, but I vividly remember those 30 minutes, and others like them, each filled with laughter, bantering, bragging and plenty of smiles. It’s those moments that have me waiting in anticipation for another winter season, and cherishing not just the vintage resurgence but also the sport, and more importantly the people whom it embodies.