After years of near death experiences in the red plastic toboggan tethered by a long rope to our overpowered Honda three-wheeler, it seemed like I was invincible - sure, their were cuts, bruises, lacerations, dizzy spells, near misses, bumps, aches, pains, and countless days where I hobbled into the house to stiff and sore to move, but nothing really serious.We were also getting more adventurous as we got older.

In our younger years, we usually stayed confined to the farmyard, the slough next to it, or the row of old machinery that lay rusting just beyond the slough (Machinery Hill).

But with age, I was now in seventh grade and Jaime was now in ninth, came a bigger sense of the world.  Suddenly, the pasture behind Machinery Hills looked less threatening and more welcoming.  The ditches that led to Uncle Hanks woods about a half mile down the road were less scary and while their was the risk of getting stuck, we were getting big enough to man-handle the three-wheeler if needed and get ourselves un-mired if needed.

In short, like all good explorers, we were pushing the bounds.

That winter of my seventh grade year, Jaime and I had opened a fresh route - beyond the slough and into the pasture behind the farmstead.  The trees, weeds and ditches made for strange contours of snow that rose and fell like mountains with peaks and valleys.  If Jaime kept between the drifts, he could prevent getting stuck while still getting me swinging back and forth up the sides of the drifts and sometimes over them into the waiting valley on the other side of the drifts.

It was fun.  It was thrilling. It was dangerous.

The other side of those drifts might not be a gentle slope.  It could be a buried manure spreader or a big drop-off into the pit where they dug the fill out for the machine shed, or a bared wire fence - any of which could cause some major damage.

Luckily, I was invincible and while there were collisions, most of them resulted in little damage.

One day, Jaime was starting me through the gauntlet, through the snow drifts in the pasture, sliding me this way and that way, up the sides and over top of massive snow drifts - first this way, then that way, then this way, then that way, then - CRACK.

There was a bit of shock.  Then there was surprise.  Then there was pain.  Sharp, agonizing pain.  It felt like someone had hit me in the back with fence pole.  I looked around, and spotted what I had hit squarely with the lower part of my back…a fence post sticking out of the last snow drift before leaving the pasture.

I looked up, hoping to see Jaime coming back to rescue me…Instead I watched him drive the three-wheeler with the now empty suicide sled bouncing jauntily behind it around the big slough, through the yard, and stop far away in front of the house.  The empty suicide sled sliding up and past him as he stopped.  At this point, the memories become fuzzy.  While the distance from where I lay to the front of the house is a great distance, I swear I saw the look on Jaime’s face at that moment, as he watched that empty sled slide past him - it was one of confusion and wonder as he reached up to scratch his head.

Slowly, he started the three-wheeler back up and came out to look for me.

When he got out to me, I hollered at him for leaving me out there, for swinging me into the fence post, and begged him to go slow.  Then I rolled into the sled.

I was in pain and agony for the next twelve hours - chores that night were painful.  Chores the next morning were almost unbearable.  At school the next day, I could hardly sit down in my desk.

For the second time in my life, I surrendered and went to the doctor…

“Well you dumb SOB, what did you think was going to happen.  Go home and lay flat on your back for ten days.” Said Doc Ladue.

So for the next ten days, there I laid on the floor of our living room, my feet in the air, trying to repair the damage to my lower back.

My back never fully heeled after that.  In college, I got a free examination at a chiropractic clinic in Fargo that included my first every x-ray of my back.  The doctor stuck it up on the light board, looked at me with a bit of awe in his voice, and pointed at the weird bump in my spinal column.

“It looks like someone hit you in the back with a fence post!” he said.

I lived to tell the perils of the suicide sled, though that was the last ride that I took on her.  And where is the old girl now that vanquished me and ruined my back?

I melted her down the next time we burned garbage.