Around when I was 7 or 8, there was a camping ground in Muskegon, MI that I and my family ventured out towards every summer. This place was the kind of camping ground that was paved over, had dirt patches for setting up tents and other camping equipment, and provided electricity to each allotment. The whole place was right next to Lake Michigan, so whenever the fancy arose you could dive off into the lake for a refreshing hour - or eight. I used to love how the setting sunlight would glide over and under the tree tops and how if you took the time to stare, time would freeze in intimate sepia forever chiseled into your mind.

One year, I had discovered some bike trails residing not far from the back of the main camping area. Some kids I had met and become friends with had called me over and we biked through some trails off the road into the woods. Almost immediately a sense of adventure overcame me and I was taken into a fantasy land. We rode up and down some minor hills here and there until we came upon a group of kids swarming around a particular arrangement of hills.

It was a bike ramp! The ground was soft and had a kind of hollow thumping noise when you fell upon it. There was a valley between the two ramp-shaped hills, giving the effect of a huge jump, and an even higher hill to gain speed from that led up to the first ramp. Plenty of kids were trying to make the ramp over and over, but I realized that none of them were gaining enough speed. I eagerly waited in line to try my idea of going down that extra hill to gain the needed speed.

When my turn came I raced down the hill with all my heart, legs pumping, eyes squinted. I suddenly hit the ramp and launched into the air. It was the most exhilarating feeling, flying through the air. And with a soft thud my bike landed on the other side, all the other children amazed. I will never forget that feeling.
Unknown "Michishige" Adventurous - 16 years, 11 months, 3 days ago