Elegy for a boot

I had not been skiing since 1990 or so.  When I moved to New England in 1989, I thought that skiing here was just too darn icy and cold, compared to Lake Tahoe.  I put my ski boots and other gear in a box in the basement.  This year, my 12 year old son announced he wanted to try snowboarding, so during winter vacation week we went to Nashoba Valley here in Massachusetts.  It was what we used to call “spring skiing” conditions.  Alex had a good time and might want to go again, but here’s what happened when I hit a bump on my first intermediate run.
It looks to me like the plastic just got brittle and shattered. Now I am kind of bemused.  What happened really?  I know that plastics get brittle when exposed to ultraviolet light, but that is not the case here.  Perhaps this is an example of the plasticizers evaporating over many years.
Anyway, farewell boots!  You served me well, at Squaw Valley, Alpine Meadows, Kirkwood, Soda Springs, Heavenly Vally, Boreal, and farther afield at Mammoth Mountain, Snowbird, and Sun Valley.  Even Waterville Valley was no match for you, but little Nashoba was too tough.

Broken ski boots
My 1985 Ski Boots

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