The Real Thing To Shovel Snow Tough To Find
I would like for someone to tell me when it was that snow shovels broke off the family tree and established their own genetic strain. In fact, snow shovels have become their own tree of bewildering choices. A padded “T” handle, or just a straight one? Do you want a teflon coated model? How about one of these plastic models - oh excuse me, I mean high impact ABS?
Having lived in L.A. for seven years before moving to North Idaho, you’ll have to forgive me for missing the evolution of the snow shovel. When I grew up in Michigan, we used an actual shovel (gasp!) to toss snow around, and it worked just fine, thank you. Oh, sure, over the years I’d visited friends and helped shovel a few driveways using those pitiful sheetmetal jobs with the stapled on handles that last half a season before falling apart, but shopping for a snow shovel last week was an eye-opener.
At the first store, the young clerk gave me a funny look when asked if he had any “real” snow shovels after I glanced over the impressive display of personal snow moving devices. “What do you mean, real shovels?” he asked warily. I explained that I wanted to actually pick up the snow and toss it where I wanted it. Those on display just kind of push the snow around, I explained, and won’t work if it is too deep, too heavy, or too hard, which real snow often is. “That’s all we’ve got,” he said in a voice that told me he’d never heard of such a concept.
On the way to the second store, I decided to be a little more receptive to this new technique of “snow shoving.” A knowledgeable older man helped me this time and I had high hopes until he asked what kind of snow I planned to be shoveling. Taking this for the opening line of a pitch to sell me one for each type of snow, I replied evenly that I would shovel whatever I found out there each morning.
He led me over to a wall containing a representative sample of genetically mutated snow shovels. One even had a big tag on it proclaiming proudly “As seen on TV.” The man explained that each shovel was designed for certain types of snow, and some have a metal edge for icy conditions, others are lightweight for powdery snow, and that teflon coatings are all the rage so the snow slides off easily. Presumably at the right moment, I thought to myself.
“Why are all the handles bent in such funny shapes?” I asked. He patiently explained that scientists discovered these mystical shapes are easier on the biomechanical structure of our bodies, and that they had even been known to cure back pain. “Here, try it,” he said, thrusting the oddly kicked handle at me. I waved it around a little and it was balanced, but still didn’t feel like a threat to chiropractors. “What about ice? This wimpy plastic edge can’t take the pounding of an icy North Idaho driveway,” I said, pounding and scraping it against the linoleum floor for effect.
He then pulled the one with the TV tag down, and I was stunned at the sidewalk-width blade. “You’ll never move that thing full of snow,” I protested. He dramatically flipped it over and showed off the wheels on the bottom. Wheels! On a snow shovel! I began to wonder if Congress had voted to funnel the latest defense technology into snow shovels as a courtesy to the public.
Heading for the third store, I was sitting at a stop light when I noticed a guy shoveling grain behind a feed store. In his hand was the perfect snow shovel. I quickly pulled in, found out he sells them at his feed store, and bought one. It’s a 14-inch grain shovel with a straight hickory shaft and a steam-bent “D” handle. I grew up shoveling snow with one of these. Heavy snow, powdery snow, frozen slush and crusty snow. And you can beat that metal scoop on ice until your hands ring.
With a heavy snowfall in the forecast, I am looking forward to being the envy of the neighborhood. While my neighbors are still prancing around their driveways with those ergonomic, made-for-TV gadgets, I’ll be inside finishing a second cup of coffee, while my shovel hangs in the garage. Without wheels.