Sunday, March 6, 2011


Everywhere I have ever been has a "Mountain View" street.
Even in Georgia, I stood on a street called Mountain View and strained my eyes looking for even a large hill, let alone a mountain.
They still had the street.
I get this feeling that a lot of names get reused like this, take for instance "Widow Maker" if everything that bore that name actually caused some sad and lonely women to minus a husband.......
There would be a lot more cougar activity at the local bar scenes.
Ok, bad joke.
But really, Widow Maker? A thing that kills husbands, usually a steep hill or mountain that men, presumably husbands try and ride motorcycles/cars/dune buggies/pogo sticks and all other manner of loco-motion up.
I assume it makes sense.
This post has nothing whatsoever to do with going up a mountain.
Well, we did have to hike back up after, but this memory has nothing to do with going up.
It has everything to do with going down.
And the hill was named "Widow Maker".
The whole "How it got started?" is fuzzy to me, I remember Mark (his real name) picking me up in his two wheel drive truck and making two stops.

The costume/wardrobe closet at the high school he was attending and that I had recently been kicked out of. (graduated) To stock up on ridiculous coats. His was a bright plaid and mine was lime-ish greenish.

K mart, where we pooled our money and bought a sled. 4 dollars.

It was orange and plastic.
It rocked.

Then we drove down south to the "Point of the Mountain". back in these, Ye olde days, there were no homes out there. People still wanted to live on flat ground and not perched up on cliffs like the Anasazi.
I digress.
We drove to the top of the local "Widow Maker" Being unmarried we knew we were safe.
Walked to the edge and looked down.
Holy narking frozen shit balls.
Straight down about sums it up.
So, we braced the sled on the edge, I got in first and braced my feet to either side, Mark said something witty and got in the front.
I would like to point out at this time for you  to remember "Its only Gay if you make eye contact"
We balanced on the edge and.....
I lifted up my feet
we were at the bottom.
That fast.
I had frozen tears blown back from my eyes and a faint recollection of speed. Our manly screams were still echoing from the surrounding peaks.
It took us an hour and a half to hike back up.
Our second run was even faster.
The tree didn't even slow us down.
It was a spindly little thing, only about ten feet tall and 8 inches around at the base.
We hit it dead center near the bottom of the mountain.
Snapped it clean off at the base and went right over it.
Our super manly screams of terror turned into relieved laughter as we heard it snap.
2 hours this time. All the way to the top and fading light lent us speed.
Entering our supersonic kick-ass sled contrivance Mark said "Hey, I think there is a drop off down there"
I glanced down, It did indeed appear that the mountain fell away into a crevice near the bottom, but being wise in the ways of distance and mirage in fading light I growled "optical illusion" and clambered aboard.
Once again, the brace, the balance, the lifting of the feet and.....
Unreal speed.
Barely able to see I glimpsed the mirage coming up.
I have mentioned that I am dumb? Right?
We sailed out into open air, 20, 30, 40 feet in a blink.
We did not launch, the mountain just dropped away under us.
We flew.
Important safety tip.
Sleds do not fly well, they land worse.
It was a very very long hike back to the truck.


Ski Bike Junkie said...

Eight inches at the base may be exaggerating. It couldn't have been more than seven.

Dafeenah said...

Hi I am visiting because Aimee told me to, but I am following because anyone who will not only go down something called the "Widow Maker" but will climb back up it and do it again is someone I am certain to get along with.

Katsidhe said...

I loved your entry, as usual. I'm very happy that I took the extra two minutes (that's a lot 'cause I'm lazy) to find your blog from 30+ because it always makes me smile, sir.~ :)

And holy fucking shit, that is one God awful looking injury your boy, Mark, is sporting on his profile. O_O

Aimee said...

I digress- me too.

Holy narking frozen shit balls?- PURE. LITERARY GENIUS.

oh, how I am growing to love your stories....