When was the last time you went sledding? When did you last feel your face turn into a block of ice, as you rocketed down that hill towards certain death? Or at least a severe bruise? I know, it’s been a while for me too. However, when my boys were young and fearless, every Snow Day we headed to Shrapnel Hill.
I gave the sledding hill behind Madison Heights City Hall that nickname for a reason. Once you huffed and puffed your way to the top, all you could see were shattered pieces of sleds at the bottom. God only knows what happened to their passengers. It was a pretty terrifying sight. However, after applying the required logic to the situation, you were good to go. You didn’t see any blood on the snow, and there wasn’t an ambulance carting off the latest victim, so you rocketed face-first down that hill.
The Flexible Flyer of yesteryear has given way to saucer, and multi-rider sleds that have no pretense of steering at all. To be honest, I never understood how to use the crossbar on the Flyer to steer either. Let’s face it, you were a missile with no control whatsoever. That was all part of the thrill! Would you reach the bottom alive, only to do it all over again? Give it a shot and find out! If you reached the base of the hill in one piece, you had to have your head on a swivel. The next daredevil was right behind you.
It’s amazing to me that sledding hills haven’t been outlawed in this litigious, politically correct society. It says a lot about the quest for fun. Plus, the fact that helicopter parents don’t make their babies wear bubble wrap snowsuits while sledding, speaks volumes as well. There must be enough belly-whoppin’ kid left in these adults to allow their offspring to risk life and limb. All for the rush of making it to the bottom of Shrapnel Hill in one piece. Way to go, mom and dad. Well, we made it down alive, let’s go again!
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