STU...AKA "Chip"

So, Stu and Dad had their annual trip to Jackson, Wyoming for the Snowmobile Hillclimbs. This is a father-son bonding trip that they have done for several years, and one that they really enjoy. In fact, Stu always records the sounds of the snowmobiles to use as his wake-up alarm every morning! Stu can tell you every class, every weight, every sled and driver, and can compare them to each other in terms that few grown men (and NO mother) understand. It is his idea of heaven!!

So they are standing on the hill by the side of the track watching the sleds try to go up and over the top. The girls and I are at the tournament. About 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I get a text from Dave "a rock hit Stu in the mouth, he's bleeding and we are headed to the medic". What?! Well, the whole story is this: They were standing as innocent bystanders, watching the sleds, and a track (spinning at full-throttle) picked up a rock from the hill and launched it like a missile, which hit Stu just above his upper lip. High enough to not break his teeth, low enough to not break his nose. He bled and bled, and lots of snow and gauze to try to stop the bleeding. He ended up passing out, and Dave tried to get him head down without sliding down the very steep hill. The medics came, loaded him on a sled and flew him down the mountain to the first aid station. Dave followed on his behind, sliding down the hill, tearing up his best and favorite snow bibs in the process of hurrying to the bottom to meet him. They were concerned about him passing out, and had a whole slew of questions: Where are you? Why did you come here? Who brought you? And they tried to put him off when asked which sled class was racing next. They told him he needed 2 stitches, how to get to the hospital, etc. Stu, of course, would have none of that! So they put a butterfly on it and let him go, but he took the butterfly off before they got too far, and they headed up to watch the Super Mods race (ask Stu for an idea of what the heck the Super Mods are). He finally got his fill of the action, and they headed home.

Now he has a nasty bruise and gigantic canker underneath the sore, and a bit of a fat lip, but as he says, "Chicks dig scars!" My true-blue son. Sleds, scars, race gas, super mods, and just sheer toughness. What a kid!