There are some things about which one hardly ever hears good news.

Lately, it's the economy. But also, human encounters with bobcats or bears.

And, for example, snowmobiling.

Rarely do you read the story headlined, "Local couple enjoys uneventful day of snowmobiling," or "Two teens involved in 38th accident-free ride together."

Media coverage of snowmobiling often involves fences and tree trunks, and not in a good way.

I have the added negative exposure of working in the critical care unit of a hospital one winter and seeing the tragic ends to several careless snowmobile outings. I was hard-wired to be afraid of it.

So when my parents' Northern Minnesota neighbor offered — insisted, really — that my husband and kids borrow his snowmobiles during our Christmas break visit, I was less than enthused.

I rattled off half a dozen cautionary tales about snowmobiling disasters — none of them based on anything I had experienced first-hand — before my husband finally said, "Why don't we just try it?"

I hate it when he does that - undermining my irrational fear.

But I bet you can guess how this ends. We tried it, and it was fantastic.

We went slow, with the kids on the back. We stuck to the well-groomed trails. And we saw the deep North Woods in a way we hadn't before — untouched snow on fallen logs like sculptures, leafless birch trees against the periwinkle sky, the cool air blowing past us all the while.

There were a couple of times I had to travel on a

15-degree grade and felt unreasonably certain I was going to tip over. There was another time I slowly veered off the trail, gathering wetland weeds in my skis before setting back on course.

But I never went against my instincts, or put my own or my children's safety at risk. I just gave a new experience a chance — I tried it before I let fear talk me out of it.

I remember driving by an airport a few weeks ago and noticing the posted warning that we were at threat level "orange." You know, just one degree below, like, inferno.

"Orange?" I said to my husband. "When did that happen? And what kind of American am I for not knowing that?"

Turns out our national threat level is almost always elevated now. Kind of like my personal fear level.

These aren't the best and brightest of times, and being on guard is understandable. The world, it seems, is crumbling around us. But often what we're most afraid of we could do little to prevent anyway. We're afraid of losing our jobs or our homes. So we work hard, we do everything we can to shore up against catastrophe. And that's all we can do.

I can't count the number of times I say something to my children that begins, "Be careful that you don't…" It recently occurred to me that might be giving them the impression that they're always on the cusp of something awful happening — when I want them to believe that something new and incredible could come to them, at any moment, if they're just open to it.

So this is my New Year's Resolution: Try new things. Be fearless, or at least fear less.

It's like the lyrics from one of my favorite Tom Waits songs: "If it's worth the going, it's worth the ride."

After this first new ride, I can't wait to see where it takes me.