In 1970 the Panther had few equals. Beautiful in black by John H. Stewart November 1969 marked a momentous occasion at the Stewart family farm. I had just stumbled off the school bus, with two hours of homework in tow. As usual I had my head stuck in the refrigerator, searching for something to slay my 13-year-old appetite. The sound of John Sr.’s pickup pulling up beside the house did little to distract me from my quest. The next sound I heard had quite a different effect. I remember flattening a couple of my sisters as I tore through the outside door, my mother’s voice still ringing in my ears, something about being a “clumsy idiot.” As I rounded the front of our 1970 Chevy pickup, I spotted the reason for my excitement. There it was, black hood gleaming in the afternoon sun, a shiny aluminum tunnel, gold striping on the front bumper and the seat—well, it was way past cool. It took me approximately 60 seconds to pull on my McLeods one piece suit and my vintage “Sled Ed—Sears” helmet. I tripped over our 1968 Snow Cruiser in my haste to get to the beast and growled something like, “gutless pig” or “old piece of junk.” The whole time my father was trying to tell me stuff none of which managed to permeate my one track 13-year-old pea brain. Once on board I headed out on the half-mile driveway to highway 21. Smooth. Even my 13-year-old rubber spine knew right away something big was going on. The thing even made the bumps seem smoother! A hard right turn at a whopping 25 miles per hour and the critter didn’t try to spit me off on my head. There were technical things happening here, that my young head wouldn’t grasp for another two decades, but Roger Skime and other like guys at Arctic Enterprises knew what was going on. What I did understand was that it worked and I had never felt more confident on a snowmobile. As I headed home, I pulled upon the ice-covered driveway, which passed through two rows of huge 70-year-old elms. I mashed the throttle and held it until a registered 50 miles per hour showed on the speedometer. As I pulled into the yard, I found my father waving his arms and yelling something about not driving a new engine wide open or some such nonsense, a scene that would repeat itself until I finally figured out John Sr. might know what he was talking about. To say that the 1970 Panther was a good machine is an almost unforgivable understatement, when you consider what the competition was building at the same time. Adjustable slide rail suspension, lightweight aluminum tunnel and engines mounted way low in the pan to keep the centre of gravity low. Lots of track on the snow and great weight distribution. The Panthers were famous for their deep snow capability. Our Panther had the 399 Hirth, making 22 horsepower, with a funky looking curried intake manifold. In 1970 engine choices ranged from a 250 cc Hirth all the way up to the mighty 793. Kholer, Wankel, JLO and Sachs engines were also available and the first Kawasaki engine made its appearance. Talk about a part-man’s nightmare! Most machines came with the secondary clutch fixed directly to the dropcase on the PTO side of the engine. An eccentric bearing housing was used to adjust chain tension and the chain was enclosed and ran in oil. Salsbury clutches were used to make the “go” and a caliper disk supplies the “whoa.” The suspension system was adjustable through the use of turnbuckles and this, combined with a big comfortable seat, made for a great riding sled in its day. The fuel tank was rear mounted and easily accessible. The handlebars, windshield and controls were well thought out and designed. The 1970 Panther had few equals at the time, if any and forged a brand loyalty among many “Cat” owners that has lasted for decades. A few years ago, a 1970 Panther was listed for sale in the classified section of a Regina newspaper. Of course I had to phone. Yes, it was a 399. Yes it had a Hirth engine. Yes, it’s mine now. And on those rare occasions when I actually ride it, I rarely hold it “wide open.” Hope springs eternal, Dad. John Stewart lives in Maple Creek Saskatchewan and when he isn’t working in the gas patch, he likes to spend his winters sledding and sharing his stories of the wonders of snowmobiling as a child.