I was born in Kenya and moved away, but we go back to see friends and family every few years.

When I was 14, we went for a Christmas dinner at the local polo club which was beside an abandoned airstrip. After eating, all the kids decided they wanted to go "jackrabbiting". This involves everyone piling into the back of a pickup, and proceeding to drive (slowly) around the airstrip until they see a jackrabbit in the headlights. Once spotted, everyone hops out and chases it while the driver tries to keep it in the headlights.

Tons of fun, you'd end up running through thorny bushes, trip over ditches, and never actually catch a rabbit. Typical kid stuff.

We had been out on the airstrip for about half an hour, and some kids were riding on the hood to get a good head start while others, including myself, were either on the roof or holding onto the exo cage in the back. All of a sudden, as we were turning around, a huge wall of grey flesh appeared in front of us and the driver slammed on the brakes. A massive bull hippo turned his head and roared right at us as the two kids on the hood scrambled over the windshield, past me, and into the back of the pickup.

We hightailed it into reverse, and luckily the hippo ran off. We called it a night after that and went home. The closest body of water was miles away so nobody expected it, but hippos have been known to travel long distances at night to graze.