As a kid, the toboggan ramp made his throat tighten. To him, it rose like a mountain, promising speeds that seemed to break the sound barrier. He watched from below as people climbed the countless steps. The attendant released the brake, sending the toboggan racing down, kids screaming and adults clutching them, powerless as they flew down the hill.
His buddies called him chicken as they climbed the stairs time and again without serious injury, so, after reflecting on his young life, he somehow found the guts to join them up in the clouds. He took his place between his friends, so close together he couldn't breathe. And then, without sufficient notice, the break was released, and they went nose-first down the hill from hell. Faster and faster they went, trying to avoid others who lay scattered about the hill, waving to onlookers. Saying they were fine. Then, on one sharp turn, Billy tumbled off, followed by Davy, as the toboggan continued its course, heading straight for a patch of pine trees. Then the unthinkable happened when Sam rolled off, leaving him to pilot the deadly missile of doom on his own.
He maneuvered the wooden rocket through an opening in the trees, coming inches from being pierced by a branch and slowly losing speed as the tobogan came to rest just feet from a frozen pond. He lay there for a bit, then got up, waving his arms. All was well. He barely made out his friends waving him on to climb back up the hill. But his days of tempting fate were behind him, as was the toboggan he left for them to retrieve, as he headed for the safety and warmth of the family car, and a hot cup of cocoa.
Mike 2025
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