AmSnow.com is now SnoWest.com
When I tell most people my 79-year-old parents have never even pushed the “on” button on a personal computer, the looks I receive fall somewhere between incredulity and mild terror. Sort of like the look you might get if you asked George W. Bush to spell, well, “incredulity.”
My parents are not the computer technology types and that’s OK. In fact, I tried to buy my mom a computer about a year ago, extolling all the virtues like email and shopping online and she would have none of it.
Me, I understand and appreciate technology for what it’s worth. I use it everyday in some capacity or another. Above all, I probably spend the majority of my time on the, so-called, Information Super Highway. The internet is good for really important stuff like finding out if anyone’s ever pitched a no-hitter in the rain or reminiscing over a Flock of Seagulls video on YouTube, but there is one thing “the web” cannot replace … the mail-order catalog.
I’ve been hooked on mail-order since I first discovered Dennis Kirk and Manufacturer’s Supply back in the seventh grade. I couldn’t wait to pour over the pages of these catalogs studying every key fob, “Big D” starter handle, and knit balaclava.
Saving up some allowance or work money and conning my mom into calling in an order for me on her Visa card was like teenage euphoria. The anticipation of the wait, mixed with the risk of a brutal back order of some essential item, like a hot pink snap-together spark plug holder; the kind that works great around the kitchen table, but you need a hand grenade to separate when it’s -12 and you really need that plug. And when the guy in the brown outfit carried the box up the steps … Forget about it! It was like Christmas in October.
Let us not forget that the beginning of all this joy is the source document, the Holy Grail, the mail-order catalog. Poking around some website, wading through endless dropdowns, search engines, links, and hot buttons cannot compare to getting your greasy fingers all over the dog-eared pages of the Shade Tree catalog looking for the carb kit you need to get your Polaris Charger back in action. How about the ego rehabilitation of flipping to that well-worn page in the Aaen Performance catalog right after your buddies Phazer just kicked your butt or the realization that you can no longer live without the “No-Fog” mask on page 79 of the Sno-Stuff catalog?
In fact, I will level a challenge to all takers, head to head, mono y mono: I can find anything in a printed catalog faster than anyone else can find it online. Is this a particular talent? No, just years of careful perusing and practice have led me to stick my chest out and profess my confidence in my mail-order catalog investigative abilities.
The way the world is heading, I am still surprised whenever I get a new catalog in the mail from one of these companies. Apparently, there are still enough Neanderthals like me out here that require the Real Deal. Now, I’m not saying I don’t ever go on mail-order websites; in fact I buy a lot of stuff on eBay and all kinds of online places. I’m just saying that on a cold winter’s night, I am just as likely to curl up in front of the fireplace with a Wahl Brothers Racing catalog as I am with a novel.
Does that make me uncultured? Maybe, but I feel like I get enough culture at work all day surrounded by academics that drink wine and listen to NPR.
My only fear: that I will be on an episode of “Hoarders” some day. The entire house will be immaculately clean, except I will no longer be able to get in the bathroom because of the piles of catalogs. It’s not that far from coming true, especially around the holidays.
Hoarders aside, I say long live the catalog. After all, what keywords am I supposed to enter to find a “Speedy Gonzales Rides Rupp” patch online?