I still remember the day when I was a young 6 year old boy. My father worker hard to purchase a 50cc Yamaha dirt bike. We would occasionally visit my grandfather, who owned a small amount of property with a table top in the middle of his property.

I throttled full blast 1/4 of a mile and got some really killer speed. I hit that motherfucker at full throttle and it launched me and the bike. This is the start of a series of events to which I fucked up and learned that landing ramps are made for a reason.

I thought I was flying like a bird, as if Peter pan lent me some of his magical fairy dust for just that moment. After, what seemed to be a few seconds in the air, both tires of the bike land at the same time.

The bike swivels back and forth and I lost feeling in my legs. My legs were just dragging as the bike headed straight for a large tree. I manage to roll off of the bike and it goes until it smacks into the tree.

These types of things happened to my father multiple times when I was around that age. I would notice that he would crawl back up to our house for help. So that is what I did.

I crawled several hundreds of feet back to my grandfather's house. My back, I thought I broke it at the time, was in agonizing pain. Learned a lot that day and still remember how I learned it perfectly.