Spet 2010 - Tucker Hibbert

I tried playing 

baseball when I 

was a kid - I 

wasn’t very good. 

I think it had 

something to do 

with my constant 

daydreaming of 

riding and racing 

my snowmobile 

and dirt bike. Maybe it was because 

my brain wasn’t wired for traditional 

sports. Or maybe it was because my 

dad was a snowmobile racer and dirt 

bike rider and I wanted to be just like 

him. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t 

meant to play baseball or any other 

traditional sport. 

® 2010 Tucker Hibbert 

>> TRAIN TRACKS 

GROWING UP FARMER 


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After multiple Kitty Cat 

hood/windshield repairs and 


replacements, my dad decided that I 

was better off riding without the hood. 

He also taught me how to ride my 

50cc three-wheeler in the middle of a 

plowed field. I got on and held it wide 

open and turned the bars without 

letting off the throttle. The result was a 

bloody face, tears and most 

importantly, respect for the power of 

my machine. Another favorite 

summertime activity was going to the 

lake when we weren’t super busy 

farming. We rode jet skis, played in 

the sand and water and made lunch 

over a campfire. I even tried water 

skiing a few times which turned out to 

>>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> be >>> more >>> >>> awkward >>> >>> than >> baseball. 

I grew up on a potato farm on the 

Idaho/Wyoming border where I split 

my after school time between helping 

on the farm, tearing around on 

bicycles, going to the lake, and my 

personal favorite; getting on anything 

with an engine and pushing it to the 

limit (and usually past the limit). I was 

riding my three-wheeler and Kitty Cat 

at 18 months, and it was all my dad 

could do to keep them in running 

order between full-time farming and 


racing snowmobiles. He would turn 

me loose for a bit and then repair the >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> >>> 

damage so I could get back on and As a kid, I remember watching my 

tear up more of the lawn. 

dad race snowmobiles a few times 

when we lived in Idaho. I didn’t pay a 

lot of attention to his races or 

understand how good he was. 

Apparently, I was more interested in 

seeing what kind of mischief I could 

get into with my cousins. My most 

vivid memory of my dad racing is the 

hill climb in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I 

used to ride to the top of the mountain 

on the chair lift and then slide back 

down on my butt. This routine would 

continue all day long with the 

32 ✪ ON SNOW MAGAZINE 

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occasional pit stop at the concessions 

to get my fill of candy and pop for 

even more sliding energy. 

I started to realize how good my 

dad was after he made a few very 

successful trips to Minnesota to race 

snowmobiles against the world’s best 

racers. In 1990, after my dad proved 

his racing abilities, my parents 

decided it was time to move our family 

to Minnesota for the winter so he 

could compete in all the premiere 

races. As a first grader, I started and 

attended the first few months of 

school in Alta, Wyoming. When the 

snow started to fly, we packed up 

everything we needed for the winter, 

loaded it into a pickup truck and trailer 

and headed east. 

Moving from Wyoming to Minnesota 

was quite the adventure for me and 

it's something I’ll never forget. My dad 

had a deluxe truck topper with a 

carpeted bed liner kit that included 

storage compartments, a padded 

sleeping platform and an airtight 

gasket to seal the gap between the 

topper and the truck rear window. The 

truck topper kit/apartment was the 

filled with four kids, a dog, Barbie 


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TRAIN TRACKS 

dolls, candy, Legos, Battle Ship and a 

burlap sack of potatoes. I remember 

crawling back and forth between the 

truck and the topper, and having all kinds 

of fun. Once we arrived in Minnesota, we 

settled into a house that was owned by 

then Team Arctic Cat Race Director, Joey 

Halstrom. My Mom got us set up in 

school right away in Thief River Falls, 

and my Dad began working with Arctic 

Cat on the race sleds in preparation for 

the upcoming season. 

Being a little kid, it wasn’t hard for me 

to adapt to all the changes we made, but 

it must have been hard for my parents. 

They had to organize and manage 

schooling for four kids at two different 

schools, learn their way around a new 

town where they didn’t know anyone, 

survive through a Minnesota winter, and 

tackle the challenges of a full racing 

schedule in an unfamiliar region. We 

managed just fine. We all made new 

friends, did well in school, grew to love 

Thief River Falls, didn’t freeze to death, 

and my dad had a very successful 

snowmobile race season which included 

winning the I-500 cross country race. A 

big factor that made our seasonal 

transition easier was all the giving people 

at Arctic Cat, along with their families that 

took care of us like we were family. 

At the end of the race season, we 

loaded everything we had back into that 

same truck and trailer, and made the trip 

back west to finish the school year and 

get ready for a summer of farming. This 

was the routine for the next four years. 

From 1990 to 1994 (first through fifth 

grade for me) we moved back and forth 

between Idaho and Minnesota so my Dad 

could race snowmobiles in the winter and 

farm in the summer. Every year, I would 

start school in Wyoming, transfer to 

Minnesota, and finish up in Wyoming. For 

me it was exciting to move back and 

forth, but looking back, I can’t imagine the 

challenge it was for my parents. 

Over those five years, I went to almost 

all of my Dad’s races and became 

fascinated by racing and learning about 

how to win. From what I’m told, I became 

well known in the pits by running around 

from trailer to trailer. My favorite thing to 

do was polishing the rider’s helmets and 

goggles. I think I typically overextended 

my welcome with Tasmanian devil level 

hyper-activity. I had the same level of 

activity at home too. After school, I would 

finish my homework as fast as I could, 

then spend every available second 

before bedtime riding my snowmobile. I 

had tracks everywhere that were worn 

clear down to the grass. I'd ride lap after 

lap, daydreaming about winning a race 

and taking a victory lap while standing on 

the seat of my sled. I remember my Mom 

flashing the porch light to let me know it 

was time for bed. I usually pretended that 

I didn’t see it at first so I could ride 

longer. I learned quickly that I had to be 

careful not to push it too hard because I 

needed her to make runs to town to fill 

up the gas cans so I could keep riding. 

A lot of things happened in those five 

years that shaped me into the person I 

am today. As a family we went through a 

lot of changes and challenges, but we 

always survived and in the process, grew 

closer as a family and stronger as 

individuals. The changes kept on 

coming and in 1995, another 

major change was upon us… but 

I’ll leave that story for the next 

issue of OSM. 

To learn more about 

Tucker, his career, sponsors, 

and his latest exploits, 

visit his website at 

www.tucker-hibbert.com

Spet 2010 - Tucker Hibbert

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