Some of the crazy stuff I’ve done. It’s amazing I’m here today. The chances I took with my own life and the lives of others just by them being in close proximity of my spontaneous silliness.
There was the time a friend asked for drivers to help move a few vehicles for a rental company from Trail to Nelson. I wasn’t yet eighteen and thought it was a race to see who could get to Nelson first.
It was in the day when seat belts were optional. A seat belt would have kept me in front of the steering wheel when on the left hand corners I slid along the smooth vinyl seat towards the passenger door. One of the guys said to me later, “You’re crazy!”
Not crazy. Fearless.
When my kids came along common sense threw a shadow but since I’d gotten so far in life pretty much unscathed my children often became part of my adventures.
The track under the power line the boys called the “Honda path” because of the little motor bike they would ride along it. It wound along the flat until it dropped down a hill that you could get some real speed on, and then a curve as it began to rise again.
In the winter I would hook up the GT snow racer, a sled you could steer on two raised runners, behind a horse named “Fred.” When we cut down trees at the back of the property where the truck wouldn’t fit, we used Fred to drag them out of the bush and into the pasture. He was good with ropes and having things dragging behind him.
Both of the boys would pile onto the GT snow racer, and riding Fred I would dally the rope once around the horn of a roping saddle. Then we would lope out onto the Honda path. The boys would laugh and squeal, Fred’s hooves throwing chunks of snow back at them.
One day I decided to take the hill… down.
Fred, smarter than I was, figured out he’d better move or the GT snow racer was going to catch up to him.
“Mommmmm!” The boys flew on the sled, Fred’s neck was flat as he kept the rope taut and I bent over the saddle realizing what I’d done.
It was too much fun!
I knew the boys were OK because I could hear them yelling “Mom! Slow down!”
When we hit the flat, and I could still feel the drag behind us, I let Fred go.
Boy, he could run!
He didn’t slow up for the corner. The sled with the boys lifted and then flipped. They rolled and tumbled, hats and mitts flew and snow suits filled with snow.
I laughed and laughed. Their little faces were red. They dug snow out of their nostrils. “Mom! We said ‘slow down’! You didn’t listen!”
Did we do it again?
Brave little boys.
“But Mom, you gotta slow down for the corner.”
More often than not, that corner flipped them off the GT snow racer.
Since then fear has joined common sense. Life has a way of doing that to us. I hate fear. It robs me of joy and spontaneity.
I saw this:
No Fear, No Ego, No Attitude, Just Love
That’s my new motto.