My name is Susie Fagen-Wirges. I live in Bend, Oregon, USA, and love to snowmobile. I was the only girl in a family of four boys who were driving before they were old enough and drag racing whenever they got a chance. I was envious but, “Girls don’t do those things!” was the response I got whenever I approached the subject of me racing.
I was introduced to snowmobiling in my 30s in 1985. My brother’s family and my family would load up our eight kids and ride around our local area on the weekends, mostly doubled up on sleds. I loved it. After my husband and I divorced, I missed riding. He got the sleds, and I didn’t know how to even start one at that point—what would be the sense of me having a sled?
I told myself someday I would go back to riding. In 2002, my father passed away and left a small inheritance. The first thing I did was go buy my own snowmobile and trailer. My sons had grown up and were avid riders, so they showed me the ropes and took me riding. When they moved away the following year I was without buddies to ride with, so I joined a local club and started showing up to events on my own. Many of the men were surprised that a mature women was out on her own, unloading and riding without a husband. I have remarried but my husband doesn’t love the sport like I do.
I heard of a women’s only ride that happens once a year in Halfway, Oregon. I thought, 'how cool—an all-women’s group, but what do they do when they get stuck or break down?' Men are very helpful in these kinds of circumstances. The thought of riding without a man was unsettling, as I didn’t feel I had the expertise necessary and doubted other women did either. This thought pattern came from someone more than 50 years old at the time—it’s a generational thing.
When my girlfriend and I showed up to ride on that fateful February day in 2009, my belief in the power of womanhood when into overdrive. The lot was full of women, unloading nice machines. I could smell the mixed fuel and hear the pipes; I looked at my friend and we both thought we might be in over our heads. On the contrary—meeting these women completely opened up a new world to me as a snowmobiler. The confidence I gained from riding with women is tremendous and immeasurable. I would no longer consider myself a trail rider as opposed to an off-trail rider. I’ve learned more about the operation and mechanical components of my machine, riding techniques and made so many friends from all over the Northwest and Canada.
Snowmobiling isn’t a hobby or activity for me anymore—it is a passion that burns daily in my bones. I count the days until the snow flies, planning trips and rendezvous with like-minded friends, and participating in many activities year-round. Recently some women have made a film, which is coming out this fall. They call themselves the Sled Betties.
I didn’t consider myself a Sled Betty as I can only ride like they do in my dreams. I voiced this to Brandy Floyd, one of the founders of the ladies movement, and she quickly replied, “You sure are a Sled Betty—it’s not the aptitude, it’s the attitude, and you’ve got it.”
That statement made my year. I am 59, many years younger than most of the women associated with sledding and the Sled Betties, but I feel so much a part of it. I love to ride and will continue to ride even if I have to put side rails on my sled to hold me up!
