Yesterday I went long boarding down my road. I love long boarding with a passion. The feeling of essentially floating over the ground quickly with little effort exerted makes you feel as if you have a magical power of some sort. To me, it’s like being an air-bender riding a Nimbus 2000.
However, long boarding is dangerous if you bite off more than you can chew. …And that’s exactly what I did yesterday. I found myself at the top of a very steep hill (hereafter referred to as Mount Doom) looking down over all of
Mordor Hampden. I realized it was steep and that I would be moving really fast, but I also figured that I would be able to handle it. Also: I was barefoot and shirtless.
I kicked off down Mt. Doom and I began to pick up speed. The wind was blowing through my hair, I bent my knees slightly for balance and I was flying. Everything seemed perfect. …Then I continued to accelerate (which a long board is wont to do on a long downhill.)
For those of you who don’t know, steering a long board is a simple motion of leaning in the direction that you want the board to turn. Being a lighter individual, and also having a love for sharp corners, I have loosened my board so as to be able to turn with just a little bit of pressure in a lean. This is great help when I am rolling around CNU. This is not a great help when I am approaching thirty-five miles per hour half-way down a long hill.
My board began to shake uncontrollably, and shifting my weight only caused the board to weave back and forth even more violently. If I stopped trying to keep my balance, then I was going to veer off in some random direction or I was going to fall off my board and hit the pavement hard. If I kept trying to keep my balance then the wobble was going to get worse and worse until I wouldn’t be able to stay on the board anymore and I would have hit the pavement hard anyway. being barefoot and shirtless I realized that in a best case scenario I was going to end up with some major road-burns all over. Things looked grim.
Thinking fast, I leaned toward the side of the road and jumped off the board toward a patch of grass. I hit the ground hard and rolled a few times before coming to a stop, dazed. I watched as my board flew off into a rocky ditch on the opposite side of the road and I breathed a sigh of relief. Other than a handful of bruises, I got away completely unscathed. I collected my board and walked most of the way down the rest of Mount Doom.
Some times I think I’ve grown up quite a bit. I think I’ve gotten past my phase of trying really dumb things for really dumb reasons. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever outgrow my habit for doing dumb things. To my credit, I feel like my dumb choices happen less often than they used to, but now it seems the dumb choices I make are much more painful.