AmSnow.com is now SnoWest.com
It was October 1996 and Grand Forks, N.D. was about to enter one of its snowiest winters in modern recorded meteorological history. This would also lead to one of the largest floods in, well, someone’s recorded history, but that’s another story. Snow that winter would be measured in the hundreds of inches, something even North Dakota was not used to. A snowmobiler’s paradise. But, on a crisp Saturday morning that same October, a 25-year-old, clueless, young entrepreneur pulled the official wraps off a brand new Yamaha dealership in Grand Forks, changing the course of, only, his history forever.
First, a little contextual fodder... For those of you not aware of Grand Forks, it is located in northeastern North Dakota, right smack on the Minnesota border, with the ever-tumultuous Red River of the North separating the two states. In fact, Grand Forks has a suburb (insert pathetic laughter) on the Minnesota side, called, you-guessed-it, East Grand Forks. Grand Forks also happens to be located roughly one hour from the Arctic Cat factory in Thief River Falls, Minn. and two hours, or so, from Roseau, Minn., home of, none-other-than, Polaris.
By 1996 Polaris was the number one snowmobile retailer in the world… By a lot… A bunch… Did I say a lot and a bunch? They were just in the process of unleashing their brand new, US-made, Liberty twins, which would effectively drive a big huge stake in the heart of triple cylinder 2-strokes, Polaris’ own bread and butter for more than 10 years. A big huge stake? Yes, big AND huge. Arctic Cat’s ZRs were on about their fourth generation and what they might not have accomplished in sales numbers, they more than made up for in racing by winning pretty much everything. Thumbing their noses at trailing arms, Cat’s AWS chassis handled like it was on a Hot Wheels track and they were in the midst of installing a power valve on an already wickedly fast twin cylinder engine. This spelled trouble for competition in the ditches and on snocross tracks, especially in the hands of people like Kirk Hibbert, who in 1996 could have probably beat most guys with a toboggan and a set of canoe paddles.
Yamaha on the other hand pinned its hopes on a “brand new” trailing arm chassis, with 10-year-old geometry and eight inches of rear suspension travel, AND a “brand new” 3-cylinder 2-stroke. The newly minted entrepreneur that I was, with my new shiny Yamaha dealership heard about it ALL WINTER. I sold about two dozen new Yamaha’s to the tuning fork faithful, and a few other daring non-haters. That winter, however, was more about running defense against green and red jacketed cynics that stumbled into my showroom with alarming frequency. In the store, on the trail, at snocross races, the razzing and harassment continued. I felt like the kid who showed up to school in dress pants, when everyone else was wearing blue jeans; the same one who goes to prom with a zit on his forehead the size of a weather balloon. For six years, from the Grand Opening to the sale of the business, I felt like the elephant in the room. Then, all of a sudden, only about 15 years later, something miraculous happened.
As motivational speaker, Matt Foley, might have said: “Well, la-ti-fricken-da, we’ve got ourselves a joint venture between Arctic Cat and Yamaha! I don’t see too good, is that a green sled painted blue and a blue sled painted green?”
Now, I am going to forego all the conjecture, analysis, chin rubbing, forehead scratching and accolades, letting someone else’s column handle that because no one likely cares what I think about this whole thing anyway. What
I will deliver, free-o-charge, on behalf of every Yamaha dealer and fan out there, is a big gloat sandwich with a side order of crow for anyone who’s hungry. Anyone? Can I get a Hell Yeah? Not to the companies, of course, because this was never about them, just to the too-faithful who couldn’t resist sticking the knife in deep and giving it a twist every chance they could.
Years of torment, years of cowering, years of persecution for proudly displaying blue, and years of lime green clad snocross fans screaming, “Nagazawa!” everytime Yuji crashed his brains out. All put behind us by two companies seemingly making the right move to better their respective positions in the snowmobile business. All the while, remember, this is still a business.
So, brothers and sisters, enjoy your new Yamaha Vipers proudly knowing you have a kick-butt chassis you can ride like a rented Corvette. New Cat ZR owners, crack the throttle of the best 4-stroke sled mill in the business. Let colors blur. Let enemies unite. Let freedom ring. And let ‘ol Tom here, the former Yamaha dealer, gloat. Amen.