![]() The scene borders on domestic bliss, and the conversation ambles gently from skiing to personal history to any other topic that pops into Hornbeck’s head. ![]() The rental house, home for the coming season, is spacious and clean. We gingerly climb the driveway covered in the remains of the season’s first big storm and the ice from the melt off.Ī couple of friends wander in and out of the kitchen while Hornbeck’s girlfriend, Jessica, cooks up a stir-fry for us all. Behind him, the truck is filled with a jumble of the tools of his trade: skis, shovels and construction lights. In the fading light, I see the smiling face of Mike Hornbeck peering from the driver’s window. At the end of a long mazelike road above the town of Park City, I find an icy driveway fronted by a mid-80s Toyota Land Cruiser.
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