Sometime in the winter of 1995/1996, six friends and co-workers from The Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole, Massachusetts decided to compete in the U.S. National Toboggan Championships that are held in Camden, Maine every year. This is their story.

First, they needed a Toboggan. Luckily, team member Joe Hayes was married to a woman whose parents had just such a sled, measuring six feet eleven inches in length and 18 inches in width. Several coats of polyeurythane and she was ready to go.

In addition to speed, it turned out there was also a competition for best costume. After a couple of neuron-storming sessions, with pasta and much beer, team SQUID hatched an idea. With gold lamay and sequins, team members Sharon Hopkins and LouAnn King went to work making the idea reality.

The SQUID lid turned out to be stunning to say the least, especially nestled in the snow covered forests at the edge of a frozen lake in Camden, Maine. Without a doubt, SQUID knew the best costume award was a lock. In addition to looking good, the lid provided valuable padding for the noggin.

The elements of Maine can be fierce. Therefore, further protective covering was a must. Bright red snow-removal suits and very stylish goggles, complete with MBL logos, finished off the pretty picture.

Having rather limited racing experience, preparation and planning was a necessity. With much practise and more beer, a routine checklist for toboggan boarding was developed: LOAD, LEGS LOCKED, SQUID ON, RACING POSITION, GOGGLES DOWN, and FIRE IN THE HOLE!

So, on the morning of the qualifying round of racing, SQUID showed up at the Camden SnowBowl ready to have some fun. A chant was quickly settled on to allow for easy marching. Our favorite squid genus name Loligo would work to the tune of Left, Left, Left, Right, Left. "Lo -- Lo -- Lo Li Go." With bladders full, in order to add mass to the sled, SQUID ascended to its fate.

In no time, like a member of the British Royal Family, SQUID attracted the press in swarms. Fortunately, team members Jeff Silberman and LouAnn King had something to say. Apparently everyone else's bladder was too full to allow for articulation.

SQUID was not the only crazy one in Camden. Over 200 sleds were entered into the U.S. Nationals this year. Creative names were everywhere: Kevorkian's Alternative, The Nads (GO NADS!!!!), The Surly Wenches, etc. There were also some good spirited also-rans in the costume contest, including our friends the Bad Habits and these lovely ladies.

The tension mounted as SQUID neared the gate for the first time. When a toboggan is ready to go, the man wearing the stylish orange jacket picks up the board at the front of the gate, his partner in crime lifts the back of the platform, the forward section pivots down, and one screaming sled is sent hurtling towards the frozen lake below.

In the chute, SQUID made much noise, and smoke. With all of the excitement SQUID had a premature inkulation. Needless to say there was some disappointment and SQUID was somewhat embarassed. On the other arms, SQUID was not completely spent and was eventually able to pull through the gate and into the chute, making a clean run to the bottom. Ayyyyyeeeeeeeeee!

SQUID was fast!!! A stunned crowd and a flabbergasted SQUID learned that of the first 18 sleds, SQUID had the third fastest time. It became clear that making it to the finals was not a dream after all. SQUID inked again for good measure.

Success brought new pressures to SQUID. Speed became a primary concern. Hot Cocoa with Schnapps and Hot Cider with Rum greased the wheels for many new ideas on minimizing friction and wind resistance, maximizing and distributing weight, etc. Team member Jim Hopkins was concerned as the hydrodynamics of his fat head became a hotly discussed topic. In the end, however, SQUID decided that the mass of his fat butt more than compensated for his fat head flapping in the breeze.

After the qualifying round was completed, TWO things were determined by SQUID. One, SQUID could have as much fun as SQUID wanted to have. And two, it was no worse for SQUID to eat members of its own phylum than it is for humans to eat other chordates. As fortune would have it, a studly Musselman familiar with the local mussel beds came strolling by. For a small fee (hot tubs and women) he was willing to get wet during the brutal Maine winter.

The qualifying round took much out of SQUID, and repairs were necessary. Bits of SQUID had found their way into the pockets of much of the competition as good speed charms. Not to worry, armed with glue-gun and spare parts, SQUID was made whole again.

It felt like returning to the scene of the crime as SQUID remounted the mountain. The qualifying round had left SQUID 18th out of 112 sleds in the four-person competition. Today only the fastest 56 sleds were to race in the eight degree weather. Would this be the day that SQUID's speed would overshadow its appearance?

NOT A CHANCE!!! After two more runs, SQUID scored a respectable but mediocre 25th out of 56 racing screaming sleds. Still, there was the press as well as the future glory of winning best costume. SQUID was happy and inked again.

In the end, SQUID was laid to rest. No sadness, for SQUID had lived a good and full life. And who knows, maybe SQUID just rested, only to rise again some winter day, and race faster than ever before. Time will tell. SQUID's last words were rumoured to be, "I'm going to Disney World!"