Telling a Tale of Trouble Never Told

While driving my father's new 2007 Honda Ridgeline that he had purchased while I was home, I was reminded of a story from high school. It was something about asking to borrow the keys and the feel of driving in such a hiked up ride that induced memories of cruising in the navy blue 1997 Ford Explorer. And boy, did I cruise. The following story will reveal a secret that has never been revealed before, well, at least not to my dad.

The night was early and there was nothing at all to do. With the keys of the new Explorer in my hands, it was time to pick up my partner in crime and all other things ill, Graeme Thompson. After picking him up we were left with the dilemma facing all high school students with no plans, what were we to do?

As for most wiley teens, fun is the fun you make. And with the keys to a car, never mind a new fourwheel drive SUV, the possibilities seemed endless. And so we drove. Really driving in high school is actually an event in and of itself. The independence of such a simple act that so many now take for granted is relished by any self discovering adolescent. We really had no particular destination in mind just driving for the sake of driving, sun roof and windows down, music testing the limits of the factory installed 6 X 9 speaker system pounding out the angst of Graeme famous mix tapes.

Teens at this age crave fun like cokeheads crave crack, especially on a Saturday night. Teens seem imbued with the ingenuous skills to always create their own fun. And growing board with cruising Albert St. and the North, South, East and West sides extensively, tonight was a night when fun had to be created.

Four Wheel Drive- ohh yeah, we turned it on. We bounced and flailed around with the freeflowing ideologies of 90s alternative rock as our anthem. The Explorer explored the rougher periphery of the Queen City, it's no jungle safari but just a step outside the concrete jungle- it was as good as it gets. Or so we thought...

As the night wore on fourwheeling just wasn't doing it for us anymore, we decided to test the true limits of the Explorer. Yeah sure it could explore the sadly flat wildgrass fields of the prairies but how would it handle the mountains?

Problem: the closest mountains were at least eight hours away.
Solution: Find the closest thing to a mountain.

In ol' Walsh Acres the closest thing is more like a hill, but tonight it would have to do. And so we popped the new shiny black tires up on the curb and then creeped into French Park. After darting around the sides of the hill a few times at speeds that were likely to flip a sedan, not to mention, a teetering SUV. Then, we took it for one last test.

We slowly backed the Explorer carefully toward the fence at the far end of the park, the rear fender just inches from the painted wood. We reved the engine in neutral before popping it into gear, darting full speed, taking the hill straight on. We had overestimated how fast the SUV could accelerate and before we knew it we had hit the top of the hill. Then we got airborne, I mean WE GOT AIRBORNE. The front of the car pointed nose up before, it violently bounced down on the other side of the hill before bouncing once more. We thought we were going to die. To a teenager who thinks they're indestructible, almost dieing but not dieing is the best feeling in the world.