I can’t recall the exact year that this occurred but here are a few clues that may jog your memory. Big Jim Whittaker was the guy in charge at REI, bright green was the latest and greatest color in ski fashion and “Anti-Friction” was the new phrase being bantered around the ski industry. Lawsuits involving ski related injuries were on the rise and findings were overwhelmingly in favor of the plaintiffs. With a mixture of acknowledged guilt and a “not-my-fault” strategy the binding companies began designing in favor of release over retention. Since favoring release over retention by reducing friction was a relatively new concept in binding technology few of the manufacturers had gotten it right.
I was employed as a ski mechanic at the Seattle REI store on Capitol Hill and my employee discount had allowed me to afford that set of Look Nevada bindings that I had coveted for so long. I soon learned, however, that Look, through the use of copious quantities of Teflon, had reduced friction to the point that retention in the real world was impossible. “Anti-friction” had taken on a whole new meaning. They tested fine in the shop but they simply didn’t work on the hill. They made this troublesome “click-click” sound that resulted in an immediate separation from your skis and a severe physical pummeling, the memory of which haunts me to this day.
Big Jim had just obtained the Earth’s largest and greenest Raichle boots to go with his new K2 skis and in a celebratory fit he accessorized with a violently green ski outfit and a pair of Look Nevada bindings with competition springs. He walked into the shop and set his gear down on the desk.
Turning to the Shop Manager he said: “Mount ‘em up, Dan. I’m going up to Alpental on the bus tonight and I can’t wait to ski ‘em”.
Jim was referring to the infamous REI ski bus that carried employees and their significant others up to the Pass on Tuesday nights. Aside from transporting us to and from the slopes it also served as a mobile party unit which was the scene of such debauchery that...............well, I’ll let someone else tell that story..........if they dare.
Dan brought the skis to my bench for mounting which I suppose was a way of validating my skill as a Wrench but as I spied those Looks I hoped that they weren’t harbingers of unemployment. I did find comfort in the fact that they had comp springs and I rationalized that nobody in their right mind would have sold/given a set of bogus bindings to a guy as big as Jim. You’ve seen the guy, right? He’s huge! Anyway, they were soon mounted, adjusted, tested and the skis were tuned with the “Killy Edge” that Jim always insisted upon.
The skiing that night was great. It was cold and snowing lightly with 6” of new. Just great........ At least it was great for everyone but Jim. Imagine for a moment: A towering green figure pushing forward with his poles to begin his run. All eyes are on him. He gains momentum. His speed builds.. Knees bent, he angulates and rolls his perfectly tuned K2’s onto an edge. As the shovels begin to bite and steer the ski into the turn there is a magnificent moment of man and machine conquering nature...........immediately followed by a terrifying demonstration of the most highly touted concept in binding technology of the day. Anti-friction! We’re talking about Anti-friction in family size doses here, folks.
Jim was having a first-hand experience with the troubling “click-click” phenomenon that I was familiar with. Each incredible episode was highlighted with a green and white tumbling exhibition done to a “snow-sky-snow-sky-snow-sky” beat and punctuated with Jim’s howls of rage. He could not complete a turn on those things without cleanly releasing mid-point. He was a sight that most folks were secretly enjoying while I was solemnly pondering my impending unemployment.
I’ll tell you something that I learned about Jim that night. He was one determined guy and would not accept defeat. The determination that he exhibited in fighting against the worst that “Anti Friction” could dish out was inspiring and was, no doubt, the sort of drive that made him the “First American on Everest”. A lesser human would have slunk off to the bar to lick their wounds and suck some suds. Not Jim
The bus ride home was strangely subdued.
The next morning I was working at my ski bench when Jim walked into the shop and created a huge racket by throwing his skis and boots on Dan’s desk.
He said: “I want to know who the SOB is who mismounted my skis”.
All the other mechanics looked up to view this interaction. I had my head down and kept drilling and screwing. Dan was going to have to give me up. I understood that and I was prepared to accept my fate.
I heard Dan say: “Jim, I’m not going to tell you which of my mechanics mounted them. If they came out of this shop, then I’m the one responsible.”
I looked up with gratitude to see that Dan’s face was beet red. He was looking up at Jim whose face was also quite crimson. They stared at each other for an uncomfortable length of time. Neither advancing nor conceding.
Finally, Pat Egan stepped in and said “Jim, I personally tested those bindings and they were set up as well as they could have been”. Since Pat was one of the most astute binding mechanics in the United States and certainly the best in town, his words carried some weight. “Those bindings are garbage, Jim.”
I thought: “Ooh! Wrong thing to say, Pat. We are all going to be fired.”
There was this incredible tension in the air as Jim stared first at Pat and then at Dan. No one said a word. Finally, Jim swept a glance across the shop. Everyone was watching him to see what came next. When he fixed his stare upon me I looked away like a dog who had done something bad. My heart sunk. “I’m dead”, I thought. I looked down and started drilling again. Jim turned and walked out of the shop.
I’m not dead!
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