by Mona Yasir

Created on: January 16, 2009   Last Updated: January 18, 2009

There is something wild and crazy in all children that makes them want to speed down a slippery slope without any contraptions to help them brake or steer, and with only the laws of physics to bring them to a scathing halt, and we were no exception. The first day of snow always made us feel like Disneyland had been brought to our doorstep. When I was young, we lived in the foothills of the Pennines. We had some deep, lovely woods around our house, cool springs and brooks at every turn, even a waterfall could be seen in the distance from my bedroom window. But most of all, we had slopes. Tons and tons of them in every direction, big ones, small ones, some pretty darned dangerous ones too, and every year when the first sprinklings of snow covered the hills, all the garage doors in the neighborhood would open up and out would come the biggest medley of colors, shapes and sizes in sleds you've ever seen. Big ones, small ones and some pretty darned dangerous ones too. And some that were just hilariously home-made out of cardboard boxes. I suppose the sledding season made everyone want to join in the fun. The slopes were free, the snow was free and, best of all, your mother could keep an eye on you from the kitchen window.

I pestered my Dad for years to buy me a proper sled like the ones everyone else had. It was embarrassing pushing my sister around in a wooden fruit crate that had a picture of bananas on the side. I mean people were beginning to stare. So one day, he finally brought home a small red wooden sled with a thick black steering rope and curved metallic blades. We felt like we were riding in Santa's sleigh, but over the years we outgrew it until only one of us could fit on it at a time. It didn't matter one bit though that it was small because it could go just as fast as anyone else's.

The road in front of our house sloped away nicely and was perfect for cycling in the summer or sledding in the winter, but the slope that led up our drive into the garage was stupendous for sledding. All our friends would come down to our house dragging their sleds up the drive to the top and then we'd race each other down screaming all the way. It didn't matter who won, it was just great to all go down together. I remember that my sister once sprained her wrist and Billy Braithwaite cracked his silly head open when he landed in the rock garden, but that was not enough to deter us. The euphoria of flying down a slope, the cold air whooshing against your face, your friends screaming and laughing beside you, is a thrill I am eternally grateful to have experienced.

Of course, these days, my kids would much rather stay in on their Wii boards on a simulated' sled or ski slope, but I ask you, where's the thrill in that? Where's the danger, the excitement? It seems to me that all childhood adventures are now simulated. Safe, electronically powered and artificial. But my sister and I still like to get together at Christmas time and torture our kids with stories about our rampant childhood sledding adventures.

Learn more about this author, Mona Yasir.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.