The best bobsleigh in the world
9.1.2019
Translation: machine translated
I'm biased when it comes to the Stiga "Snowracer". A good 30 years ago I broke imaginary world records with it, now my son loves the "racing sledge" dearly. No wonder this metal and plastic legend has been in production since 1972.
The shiny black metal frame with its solid foot brake. The three wide plastic runners. And, of course, the steering wheel. Especially the steering wheel. When the Stiga "Snowracer Classic" stands in front of me again after more than 30 years, everything is exactly as it was back then. Its appearance and my enthusiasm, I reminisce. As soon as there was even a little snow, I was at the start with this masterpiece of Swedish bobsleigh engineering and set myself increasingly difficult slalom courses. I threw myself into bends, occasionally somersaulted and eventually found the ideal line that carried me to victory, gold and the world record. Hach. It's now available in various versions.
"Papaaaa, can I get on it now??"
My three-year-old son snaps me out of the reverie I was indulging in during assembly (which will come back to haunt me later). Assembly is no big deal, the snow racer tumbles out of the packaging in just a few pieces. The seat, runners, handlebar and steering wheel have to be screwed on, the right tools are included. Then attach the spring, which prevents the unmanned sledge from hurtling downhill but forces it into a gentle left-hand turn. That's it. There's no time for a final check, the little one is already clutching the steering wheel and pressing the brake claws into Grandma's carpet. One more sleep, then we finally have snow under the runners.
Race day in Meiringen-Hasliberg, the course has it all. Icy sections, slushy snow, sharp bends and sliding passages await us on the toboggan run between Mägisalp and Bidmi.
We set the maximum load of the Snowracer (80 kilos, one person) generously (approx. 95 kilos, two people and a rucksack). It seems a little shrunken to me, but dad and son fit on it. He sits comfortably behind the steering wheel, I sit behind it with my knees next to my ears. At least until the first bend, where we almost go flying. Oh yes, there was something. Technology is everything. If you want to take tight bends with the Snowracer, you have to lean inwards and slide a little. Then it handles surprisingly well for its edgeless plastic runners. It steers best in soft snow, but it doesn't let us down on the hard sections either and the steerable skid in the centre bounces happily over all bumps.
No mercy for hikers
While I realise that I'm getting a bit older, my son discovers the racer in him. He is in his own film, sometimes Lightning McQueen, sometimes a racing car, sometimes a police car. And he mercilessly shouts everything off the piste that gets in the way of us winter hikers. Sometimes with words I wouldn't have thought him capable of. It's amazing what a steering wheel in your hand can do to people.
Wood sledges, the standard plastic tub bobs (pah!) and snowshoe racers - we leave them all behind and are superior in almost all conditions with the Snowracer. Only a few youngsters with luge sledges pose a threat to us, but they eventually turn off onto the ski piste. We glide smoothly on soft snow, icy sections are a challenge, but even here the brake claws grip at least a little and the seating position makes it easy to intervene with your feet. On flat sections, I help out by standing on a runner like a musher on a dog sled and giving momentum with one leg. The pull line, which can be attached to the centre runner, can stay in my pocket. When we reach the bottom, we look exactly like this under our helmets: 😁😁.
Mother-in-law saves mother
In the following days, we perfect our technique and test the limits. At one point, we ski down the embankment. And at some point, the middle runner starts to rattle my spinal discs in a duet. What is that? A nut has come loose. Gone. Now the steering rail is dangling precariously and I prepare myself to have to tell the little one that that's it for the tobogganing fun. Over, out, plastic scrap. But just when you think there's nothing left, your mother-in-law appears from somewhere. She trudges to the Mägisalp first aid station with her sledge and grandson and asks not for a plaster, but for a mum. And sure enough, five minutes later we're ready to go again.
"Aaaaachtuuuung, racing sled!!!!"
I hope the gondola lift can manage without it. We definitely need it more urgently. I'm a little disappointed about the material defect for a while, then the dreamy assembly comes back to my mind. I didn't ... Yes, I messed it up. If you fit the nut on the right side, the hexagon head screw on the opposite side sits firmly in a plastic recess. Nothing wobbles for the next few days. Acquittal for the snow racer, all blame on me.
We chase records and couples of pensioners jump to the side laughing when the "Aaaaachtuuuung, Rennschlitten!!!!" roaring three-year-old with the apologetically grinning dad on the pillion rattles past. Sharing a piece of childhood with your own child is simply marvellous. And so is the Snowracer. My ironclad resolution to hand it back after a few days of testing has been pulverised. I can't break the little one's heart. It has nothing to do with my enthusiasm. Well, maybe a little. To be honest: I want it too, the classic.
Michael Restin
Senior Editor
Michael.Restin@digitecgalaxus.chSimple writer and dad of two who likes to be on the move, wading through everyday family life. Juggling several balls, I'll occasionally drop one. It could be a ball, or a remark. Or both.
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