Clutch Munny
12-22-2010, 09:51 PM
Went tobogganing with the boy this morning. There's a good hill just behind our house. On the far side of it some kids have built a few jumps out of snow, so of course after a few warm-up runs, naturally the childish one had try the jumps.
"I don't know, Dad," came the voice of reason. "They look pretty dangerous."
"Whaddya, wanna live forever?" I blustered.
The answer being an emphatic Yes, I went down alone on the saucer. And steered a bit with my boots in order to hit the jump, which slowed me down a good bit, plus I still didn't quite hit it square. But I got pretty good air, knocking the wind out of myself, and impressing the hell out of us both.
So then it was on, baby. We took a few smaller jumps together, took a big one at half speed, laughed ourselves stupid, had a great time. We ditched the saucer and the boy sat in the front of our two-person sled, in between my knees with our boots jammed together in the front. Our combined mass made for some fast, long runs with big sprays of soft snow in our faces at the end of each one.
Last run before leaving for lunch. "Wanna hit a jump?" I asked.
"Nah, let's just go down fast. Never mind the jumps," says the boy.
Fair enough. So we do. We tuck in the rope, keep our hands inside, lean forward, and go down really, really fast.
Snowblind, we hit the biggest jump, dead centre.
Of course I can't be certain, but I'm going to guess that we got a metre and a half of air before dropping down, back end of the sled arriving first, hence my ass making first contact as it slapped onto the icy unforgiving plain at the foot of the hill.
Force, it turns out, is mass times acceleration. I have a lot of mass.
Rarely has the term 'rectilinear' been more appropriate to describe an angle of incidence. The shock ran from my ass, up my spine, pausing briefly to rearrange my digestive tract into the shape of a balloon dachshund, before dancing into my skull and dumping my brain into a Waring blender.
The flared rear of the sled meant that the front end was sprung up by my impact, creating a springboard that lowered the boy down with surprising gentleness. He rolled in the snow and laughed his head off while I sprawled face-first on the icy track and prayed for death. Even now, at this second, while I write these very words... my ass hurts.
"I don't know, Dad," came the voice of reason. "They look pretty dangerous."
"Whaddya, wanna live forever?" I blustered.
The answer being an emphatic Yes, I went down alone on the saucer. And steered a bit with my boots in order to hit the jump, which slowed me down a good bit, plus I still didn't quite hit it square. But I got pretty good air, knocking the wind out of myself, and impressing the hell out of us both.
So then it was on, baby. We took a few smaller jumps together, took a big one at half speed, laughed ourselves stupid, had a great time. We ditched the saucer and the boy sat in the front of our two-person sled, in between my knees with our boots jammed together in the front. Our combined mass made for some fast, long runs with big sprays of soft snow in our faces at the end of each one.
Last run before leaving for lunch. "Wanna hit a jump?" I asked.
"Nah, let's just go down fast. Never mind the jumps," says the boy.
Fair enough. So we do. We tuck in the rope, keep our hands inside, lean forward, and go down really, really fast.
Snowblind, we hit the biggest jump, dead centre.
Of course I can't be certain, but I'm going to guess that we got a metre and a half of air before dropping down, back end of the sled arriving first, hence my ass making first contact as it slapped onto the icy unforgiving plain at the foot of the hill.
Force, it turns out, is mass times acceleration. I have a lot of mass.
Rarely has the term 'rectilinear' been more appropriate to describe an angle of incidence. The shock ran from my ass, up my spine, pausing briefly to rearrange my digestive tract into the shape of a balloon dachshund, before dancing into my skull and dumping my brain into a Waring blender.
The flared rear of the sled meant that the front end was sprung up by my impact, creating a springboard that lowered the boy down with surprising gentleness. He rolled in the snow and laughed his head off while I sprawled face-first on the icy track and prayed for death. Even now, at this second, while I write these very words... my ass hurts.