Snowmobiling is one of my guilty little pleasures. It's a dangerous (see last year's Wisconsin fatality report) and polluting (see Wikipedia. I can sleep a little better knowing that one of our sleds is a four stroke) hobby. In the winter, some Northwoods taverns have more snowmobiles sitting outside than cars.
Still, there's something I enjoy about it. There's no protective cage, like in a sports car, so the sense of speed is that much more present. On Wednesday, on a straightaway, I hit 75 miles per hour — in the past, I've been up to 85 crossing a frozen lake.
The state has a network of trails, both local and semi-arterial (you can ride across the state if there's enough snow to have the trails open). Particularly in the north, the wintertime tourist economy's fate hinges on snowfall accumulation.
We again attempted to mix it with the locals (see last year's Adventures in Small-Town America). Characters haunt the taverns on a Wednesday night.
My other goal has been to get Metal Gear Solid 3 beaten on my brother's Playstation, but it looks like that won't be happening before I fly back.
The poor snow mobile dealers and northern tourist traps must be having a rough time this year.