text: The shuttle up is the worst. It’s boring and there is a long time to think about what you are doing, but this is all you want to do. Its what you came all the way to Gedern, Germany for. The tourism bus you are traveling in is silent, but your mind is buzzing. Buzzing with regret, second thoughts, but most of all adrenaline. It soars through your body even though you still have thirty minutes of travel to go. Your finger tips are tingling and you start to sweat. How can all these people be quiet when you are about to risk your life for something as a simple thrill? The regret spills over. Should I have brought more protection? Pads? Bubble wrap? Its too late now. Either go through with it, or wait two hours and take the shuttle back down. You look down at the board on the ground, and it takes you four years back. The eighth grade. It’s a Monday and you are walking home from school. You grab the trash can at the end on the driveway and you drag it begrudgingly up to the porch. Your brother was supposed to get it, but he was inside. He was in highschool, so he got there forty-five minutes before you. You stack the cans and walk up the steps to the door. There is a long package set up against it. Again, neglected by your older brother. Shouting as you walk in the door, “Why didn’t you let in the postman?!” His feet hit the ground hard as he sprints down the hallway barreling towards you. “Is my package here?” You try to toss it to him, but it was heavier than you expected. The package made a loud thud on the ground as it slipped out of your hand. He scoops it up unphased and runs to the kitchen to grab a knife. With a quick flick of the wrist the package is open and he slides out a deep brown longboard. “It’s a Landyachtz Evo” he says. “Do you want my old one?” your eyes light up and you shake your head yes. Of course you do. Its the only thing of his he won’t let you touch. His coveted old used longboard is finally yours, and yours alone, unbeknownst to you of the places it will take you, the people you will meet, and the thrill of eminent danger just a medium sized rock away. You get off the shuttle and you walk towards the top of the hill that you just spent an hour traveling via bus up. It’s only an eight mile hill, but it kept stopping for people to take photographs, and at least two bathroom breaks. You edge near the hill with your board in your arms. It is a steep drop off with smooth, flat pavement for miles out. The excitement and terror start building together in equal proportions. Articles of deaths from accidents flick through your mind at break-neck speeds. Peter Cernansky, age 18, died from a traumatic brain injury from a fall going fifteen miles an hour with a helmet. He was only going half the speed you will be, and had a few more years experience behind him. Your main concern is speed wobbles. Once they start, they are hard to pull out of, especially at 25-30 miles an hour. Speed wobbles, official name self-exciting oscillation, are S-waves that feed off of energy from your forward momentum. Energy stored in your tail gets expelled to the side. Too intense and you can lose control and be thrown off your board, which is exactly what happened to Peter. You start on the flat of the road in front of you, right before the drop. Heart racing, deep breathing, anxious. One foot on the back of your pintail. You kick it back and forth for a minute or two. Make sure it isn’t going to fall apart on you mid-ride. Extremely unlikely, but the nerves are getting to you. You click your nails together in habit. Well, what is left of your nails. You bit those off on the ride up. You consider for the last time, picking up your board and leaving. Forgetting the summers worked to save up. Forgetting your dreams of having the wind whip around your face as you reach 30 miles an hour. forgetting the 4,600 miles you traveled. It would be so easy to board that bus and leave, but you don’t. Foot back down, headphones in, weight shift over. You take the first kick off, and drop down onto the hill. “Faster and faster, until the thrill of speed, overcomes the fear of death” -Hunter S.