The Winter of '67

I lived out, comfortably, my truncated ski racing career, through my nephew, B. S, Miller. No freezing my ass in the bitter cold wind high on the side of a mountain (thanks Bode). My avuncular duties included imbuing, inculcating the "carve of the turn", at a very young age, on the wind swept trails of Cannon Mountain. If I was mentor to Bode Miller, then Jean Claude Killy, the one and only, was my mentor, on the same slopes of Cannon Mountain (a cannon shaped piece of granite) It was ten years before a Bode Miller existed, the winter of '67, March, and the French ski team comes dancing into town (Franconia NH). Jean Claude Killy gives a clinic--> "Carve of the Turn" and How to Win the Ski Race. In a class by himself, Slalom/Giant Slalom/Downhill, Killy, Sweeps. I sprang onto the scene out of nowhere in January with an incredible display of ski racing prowess (don't mind me). But it appeared to be a flash in the pan, as I went down in flames @ the championships. But I rose again, and again, to the top, before I cashed it in just as I was peaking, and then, into the woods. I could never "ride a flat ski" (fuzzball/tennis induced scoliosis)