live fast, die hard

we used to climb the hill, either riding our bikes or on foot. it was about half a mile, maybe a little more, of broken tar. no signals, no lights, a lot of danger. who cared? we climbed to the top of the hill and rode down, faster and faster, until the moment we stopped pushing and let ourselves go. the cold wind made our eyes cry till we were almost blind, but no one cared. we only cared about the vertigo, the pure speed, the adrenaline rush of knowing that, once we reached the traffic circle, we could die if a car were to come before we passed to the other side. but no car has ever come, and we have always got through.

maybe i should take a lesson out of this.