EVEL KEEGAN KNIEVEL

I'll admit it. When I was a boy I came up with a few ideas that could be considered "daredevil"ish. My younger cousins probably can recall them more clearly as they were usually the first ones I convinced to try out these incredible stunts. Needless to say no one was ever injured very badly, more likely they were permanently scarred psychologically. Some might now have a hidden fear of high places or sharp objects, but they are all still speaking with me.

One that comes to mind is the mystifying snow bank jump. The house I grew up in was located at the end of a dead end street on the edge of town. To the north was nothing but empty pasture land for as far as the eye could see. Now when it snowed and the wind was blowing, which one never happened without the other, we would get these monstrous snow drifts in different areas around the old homestead. Well after a particular nasty snow event my keen eye noticed a four foot snow drift on the north side of the house that was about ten to twelve feet away from the house. It was really cool, not a flake of snow from the foundation out until you came to the drift that appeared to be a snow wall. My mind started to race, man it would be cool to jump into that drift. How could I do it? There is nothing around to jump off.......except.......the house!! Brilliant!! All I need to do is scale the deck railing, stand on the clothesline post, pull myself onto the top of the deck and then just walk onto the roof. Now I had been on the roof many times before in the summer months to retrieve various pieces of sports equipment but I had never attempted this climb in the winter with everything covered in snow and ice. I actually made the climb quite easily and was giddy with anticipation. It really looked like a long ways down but I was going to land in the snow, just like a pile of feathers. Also, I reasoned, the snow drift was four feet high, that made it even closer to the roof so it wasn't really as far as it looked. The one obstacle I could see was the distance from the house to the actual drift, if I came up short, well, I'd only do that once. Now if I made it I would be as close to a superhero as I was ever going to be, I'd basically been given a license to fly. I walked the runway back and forth a few times to get the feel, I'd lose a little speed with the snow boots and three extra layers of clothes, they would also cause more drag as I flung my self into the wild blue yonder so I tacked on a few more feet to the approach. Deep breaths, focus, I momentarily hear my mothers parenting catch phrase, "Be sensible", her voice is drowned out as the wind rushes through my ears, 15 feet, 10 feet, you are really going to do this, 5 feet, and then I am there. I don't look down, just straight out to the horizon as I give a herculean push off, it's perfect! I sail through the atmosphere like a dream, it's really better than I thought it would be if that is possible. I'm not descending, I just keep moving in a linear line away from the roof, or that's what it feels like. I steal a glance in slow motion at the ground, ooops, reality comes crashing back, am I really 20 feet off the ground, am I really falling like a rock, am I really not going to make it over the barren chasm of death, am I going to have to explain to my mother why I wasn't sensible. Then I stretch my legs out and there is impact. I do make it to the snow bank by about 8 inches, but as I do it's like sinking your legs into wet concrete, the momentum of my body wants to keep going but as I sink in past my knees they are locked. My upper body does continue until I think my hamstrings are going to snap, then I recoil, and I'm standing there upright waist deep in the snow bank. I take a quick inventory, all parts are working and realize, that was....awesome! I go on later and convince my younger cousins to try it, and as usual, they do.

Sorry for the flashback, fast forward to our house, present day. The kids had all received "back-jacks" from Gappy. Let me explain, the back jack is a small folding item that kids can use to sit in and watch TV, or they can be adjusted so you can lie down on them, they have been a staple in our family for years. A grown-ups way to keep kids off the furniture. Anyway, you can also ratchet the back jack into a horizontal position that some what resembles a surfboard, unless you are three in which case it looks exactly like a surfboard. There we are at home, just me and the three boys, my wife is at Bunco. The two big boys are actually getting along downstairs and the three year old is upstairs doing something, later it turns out he was waxing his board. I'm watching the History channel when I hear the unmistakeable sound of someone falling down the stairs. (After it has happened a few times you are tuned in to it.) I turn around on the couch in time to see my three year old laying on his stomach, facing backwards, hanging ten down the last six steps. There is no time, crash, he runs into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, I just look at him to see what the reaction will be. I see his eyes as big as saucers, he mentally does a quick inventory, all the parts are working, Dad's not mad, at the same time we say, that was....awesome! The two big boys hear the commotion and come bounding upstairs to see what happened, they take in the scene. They see me and the three year old smiling and giggleing, they see him at the bottom of the stairs, they see the back jack, they do the math and sprint upstairs for their back jacks. I spend the rest of the night like Hasselhoff on Baywatch. No more surfing kids, nope, to dangerous, sorry, beach is closed.

Even now when I think about it, that was......awesome!