I grew up on vertical snow, slanty at least, the kind you could slide down on skinny sticks, jumping off the bumps, flying through the trees, screaming as you went waaaaay too fast until the thrill of speed overcame the fear of death. A few days ago we got the first snow of the year here in Iowa. Of course the first thing I did was head over to the sledding hill to help the kiddies get started constructing a terrain park for their sleds and snowboards. Not half an hour later a guy in an orange truck from the city pulled up to tell us to knock down our most excellent little jump, because someone would fly off it and crack their head open.
Will they take away my Mom Card if I admit that what ran through my head was, "Oooo yeah, cool...."? You're not really having fun until somebody has a concussion.
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