You work two jobs in the winter. One of them at the local bar, because your mother was wrong, it is possible to live on pizza and beer, and the tips are good. The other in the tuning room of one of the ski shops. You’re part of the team that tests the newest skis every spring. Your word can make or break a new board. But that’s not why you’re there. You’re there because work starts when the sun goes down. At first light you’re up with the coffee, grab a breakfast sandwich at the gas station where they’re cheap, greasy, and even warm at that hour, and it’s first chair for first tracks and runs with the other dawn patrol, those largely silent skiers focused on speed, arc, and snow. You’re one of your generation lost to the lure, the ones parents point to as object lessons in what not to do when you grow up. Little kids love you. Watchful parents, their high school juniors in tow, ask you in that tone where you went to college and what you’re doing with your life. You’ve perfected the eyebrow pop, you’re so good they can see it even under state of the art goggles.. those puppies are $500 a pop, Out Of Electra solar powered goggles with an LED chip that constantly adjusts to light conditions. They’re wearing haze gray on an overcast day. You smile lazily. “I live here,” you say, and casually wave at the mountain. The Dalbello Chalk Tee, it will get you through your summer landscaping job