Riddle Poem

I glide like a snowboard in powder,

while leaving a path like a jet in air.

Of my aftermath lives are wrenched,

through which they rise with care.

I am controlled by my owner and his friends who burden me,

along with sights that all men like to see.

Pushing me to pull.

Spinning me to steer.

I am often used while my operators drink beer.

(what am I?)