I hate winter in Fairbanks.

I hate the continual darkness, the sub-zero temperatures.  I hate not knowing if my car is going to start in the morning, or if my pipes are going to freeze. 

And I hate the snow machines.

I don't hate the actual device; I've never actually been on one.  To be honest, they look like a lot of fun and I'm a little jealous of people who own them (don't tell my wife).  But I hate that people drive them around town.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for alternative forms of transportation, and I'm all for sharing the road with bikes and motorcycles, and those skiers with the funky inline skates, and even the occasional unicyclist. 

But snow machines were not made for the road.

They're designed for trails and forests and the wide-open spaces for which this state is famous.  They are simply not compatible with an urban setting (and as much as it pains me to think it, Fairbanks is about as urban as Alaska gets).

Their very design is incongruous with the reality of Fairbanks roads--especially freshly graveled roads.  Their treads kick up a devilish back-spray of rocks and gravel and other small projectiles hell-bent on penetrating windshields and scarring cars' delicate paint jobs.

And the noise! 

Almost nightly, like a ritual, on the street outside my apartment a pack of young teenagers howl back and forth for hours on end--true rebels without a cause.  No matter how long I listen to it, the grating roar and whine of their engines sends unnatural chills through my body.

And it's not as if there aren't alternatives.  Outside of Fairbanks--only a few minutes by car--lies a vast inviting wilderness for the avid snow machiners to explore.  I'm sure the rolling hills and twisting trails offer much more excitement (not to mention that intoxicating feeling of exploration) than the speed bumps and stoplights of the city.

I suppose I wouldn't be so upset if the people who drove the snow machines were a little more responsible.  They want to share the road, but they don't feel obliged to follow the rules of that road.  Just the other day a pair of snow machines tore through a busy campus intersection, apparently oblivious to the stop sign or the many cars struggling to maneuver on the icy roads.  Winter driving is hard enough.  The last thing you're expecting is a motorcycle-sized vehicle to thunder past to you at breakneck speed.

But I guess I shouldn't expect all of the snow-machine joy riders to obey all the traffic laws, after all many of them aren't even old enough to have a driver's license, and so, really, have no reason to know the laws yet.

And that's what I think bothers me the most about the whole thing: there's no regulation, no licensing--anyone can drive a snowmobile.  I'm forced to share the roads with ten-year-olds at the controls of a dangerous and complicated vehicle.  Do you think safety--either mine of his--is the first thing on that ten-year-old's mind?

I really doubt it.

I hate it.  It makes me mad.  I wish people would keep their snow machines were they belong.

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