Almost all the employees of Mont Tremblant Resort were from local families, and several of these families had sold their farms to Joe Ryan. The Fleurent family was one of these.

Their property, which has become Le Diable golf course, ran alongside what is now the montée Ryan, between what has become the Grand Lodge and the Château Beauvallon. Jean Fleurent arrived at the resort in the winter of 1938-39. He was responsible for driving the big trucks and tractors on the work sites, particularly those for roads and ski lifts, and where ski runs were being cleared.

My relationship with the Fleurent family began when I was very young. The Fleurent children were play friends and school chums of mine. Our parents knew each other and were friends. In fact, the permanent employees of Tremblant were one big family. The men fished, hunted, and played hockey together and invited their sons to participate in the various activities.

Mr. Fleurent’s duties included driving a truck nicknamed the Métro. This was the truck he used to transport the employees from Saint-Jovite and lac Mercier to the foot of the slopes in the morning, returning them home in the evening.

He also operated it as a shuttle between the North and South Sides for employees and patrollers who, after the mountain closed, had to get back to the South Side.

Mr. Fleurent often passed in front of our little chalet, which was located behind the chapel at the base of the slopes. He suggested that I go with him to Montréal and Saint-Jérôme. With my mother’s permission, I set out for adventure.

It was very impressive for me, a boy of eight or nine, to find myself seated beside him in a truck that size. He sometimes let me sit behind the steering wheel, on my lunch box, and let me drive the truck. I was “king of the world”… until we met my father on the road at the wheel of his car.

I don’t need to tell you that there was a discussion between the two men, but in spite of everything, the trust was so strong between the two friends that there were no repercussions on my relationship with Mr. Fleurent, right up to when I left for Europe at the age of 16.

In the meantime, he taught me to drive the big tractor as well as Ti Zoune (the smallest tractor). It was his way of passing on his knowledge. Grandparents and parents, through example and practice, taught us and equipped us for our adult lives.

Today, the family friendship allows me to recount all these memories to the grandson of Mr. Fleurent, Jean-Paul. Some things just don’t change.

By the same author: The forgotten: Joachin Chartrand (Click the image below)