1980

Each year, as February wraps its cold arms around the frozen fields and forests of the valley, Norm McKinnon works hard to keep the shelves of Valley Hardware well stocked, especially the small automotive parts aisle. In snowmobile season he can hardly keep up with demand for spare plugs and foldable shovels. Locals liked to keep their sleds in tip top shape. Norm remembers when he was a young man how he and his neighbour, Eddie, used to tune up their machines in Eddie’s dad’s driving shed. Eddie’s family had two hundred acres on the west side of the valley and Norm and Eddie would clear trails all summer long and into the fall to prepare for snowmobiling season. Norm still has a scar on his left knee from the hatchet Eddie swung too enthusiastically one October afternoon. He doesn’t remember how he got out of the forest that day, only that Eddie dragged him under his armpits through the brush and back at the farmhouse Eddie’s mom wrapped his leg in flannel and drove him to get stitches at the clinic.

“Oh, Eddie! What have you done?” she kept repeating, the whole way to town, staring at the blood on Norm’s leg.

And Eddie? He knew just how to charm his Mom.

“Just having fun, Ma,” he’d say, with a wink. Just having fun.