Riding with a friend in his slightly lifted first gen S-10 back in high school heading I don’t remember where, probably the local dirt track races, taking gravel roads to get there. We were going fast for gravel roads, but not obscenely fast, probably around 65-70 mph when we came upon a short, but heavily arched bridge. In reality we probably didn’t go very high, or very far, but we were definitely in the air. The physical feeling is like a quick push down on your shoulders, then weightlessness, and a quick push back down when you hit the ground, but the mental feeling is a cocktail of sheer terror, joy, bewilderment, amusement, and panic. This ends the air time portion of the story, but not the end of the whole story.

Shortly after we landed we crested the next hill at the bottom of which is a stop sign. It didn’t appear that my buddy had seen it, so I mentioned it to him and he responded by doing nothing, so I yelled “STOP SIGN!!”. He heard me that time, let out a loud expletive, and slammed on the brakes. We slid through that intersection, 4 wheels locked, at probably 55 mph. Once through, he laughed and said, “well at least the wheels were stopped”, to which I answered, “good enough!”, and we continued on our way.