By Cheryl Castile | Times Vedette

You had to wait until you were in seventh grade to get to ride in the bobsled, and having two older sisters who had been passengers for a few years before I became of age, the wait seemed forever. The year was 1954 when Mr. Clough, at the first measurable snow, hitched his two horses to his bobsled and began picking up the high school and junior high students from the Panora Methodist Church.

I will never forget that first ride, as it was even more joyous and exciting than I ever imagined.

It makes me so grateful that I had to wait for this experience. I was told Mr. Clough knew the youth, and you didn’t get to cheat. If you tried and were caught, you would have to wait another year before you could get on the ride. I wasn’t about to take the chance, because Mr. Clough didn’t give these rides just once during the winter. A heavy snow almost always brought out the bobsled. Now, those were the rules my sisters told my brother, Jerry, and me, but Jerry got to ride the same year as I did and he wasn’t punished for not being in the seventh grade. Sometimes younger siblings could cramp your style, so maybe these were not Mr. Clough’s rules. Just saying.

Mr. Clough didn’t call ahead. He just pulled up in front of your home and rang the sleigh bells. He gave everyone time to get their coats and boots on and grab a blanket. Of course, if you happened to not hear the sleigh bells, one of the kids who was already on the sled would run up to your door and say, “Mr. Clough is here if you want to ride.” I didn’t know anyone who turned down this opportunity.

Our rides came to a halt when Mr. Clough was no longer able to hitch his horses to the sled. That was at the end of 1954-55 winter, so I only got to ride one year. The memory, though, has lasted 70 years, and it still warms my heart today — just like it did on the first ride.