SEPTEMBER 05: Intro
The call came on a Sunday afternoon from Senior Editor Derek Taylor, who was nearing the end of a weeklong ski odyssey to Tahoe. I could hear the fatigue in his voice, as his trip just happened to coincide with the biggest storm to hit the Sierras in 80 years, and Taylor is not known for his moderation, especially when it comes to skiing. But he did not call to report on snow conditions or to discuss the latest gossip at Squaw or even to request an extension for “a few more days of research,” as all good ski writers have a tendency to do. On this day, he called only to tell me three important words: “I found it.”
“It,” in this case, was a 1997, black and white Crown Victoria Police Interceptor—a former Idaho State Patrol car, which was bearing a “for sale” sign and sitting unclaimed in a Reno driveway. That night, it became ours. And it is the single thread that will weave together the back page of this magazine for the next six issues. The idea was to have six different writers drive the car across the country, skiing along the way. But it was also more than that, for if it were only a means of transport, we could have easily approached a car manufacturer, worked out some sponsorship deal, and sent our writers down the road in a shiny new car covered in logos. And I’m sure we could have gotten it for free. (Wait, why didn’t we do that again? Oh yeah—keeping it real and all that. Right.)
The thing is, many skiers don’t have shiny new cars. If they own one at all, then it might be rusty or run-down to the point that taking it on a road trip is an adventure in itself—the sort of adventure that POWDER magazine was founded upon and still strives to promote. Often times, in fact, your vehicle serves not only as transportation, but also as kitchen, kennel, and sleeping quarters. In other words, your car is also the ultimate piece of gear. Many a skier fits the clichéd car-owner stereotype whose mountain bikes, kayaks, and skis are each worth more than the car they are perched upon. But outdoor gear is weird that way. Because as the dollar value goes down on a particular pair of skis, or on an otherwise ordinary cop car, the sentimental value goes up.
Eight or nine years ago, I bought an old pair of Scarpa tele boots from Steve Sullivan, who went on to become one of the co-founders of Cloudveil clothing company. When we made the exchange, he handed the boots to me in a reluctant sort of way, saying, “Those things have been to the top of Denali.” The comment was directed at me, but I had the feeling it was made at least in part for the benefit the boots, as a way to say, “Thanks, you won’t be forgotten.” And in many ways, that’s what is happening with this car as each of the six writers hands it off to the next. The driver is saying, “Look, you get the car, but you also get the karma and the memories that go with it.” What greater thing to bring on any trip?