The scenery rushes past me in a blur as I feel the wind in my hair. Maybe that was a tree or a house or a car, I don’t know. The blues of the sky and the greens of the plant life and the red, oranges, and browns of the autumn trees all blurring together as I rush down the mountain at an ungodly speed. I look down and see, hundreds of feet blow me, he tiny dots of the enormous city that I used to live in. I look back up and realize that there is no way to stop this. There are no brakes, no down shift to make it go slightly slower, nothing. There isn’t even a game like there would have been if I was in a car. The only thing standing between me and God is my balance and luck. All it would take is a stray stone or a stick to send me flying to my death. I think to myself that I might as well have fun, there’s not really anything else to do. I look out again at the area surrounding me. Like a surrealist painting, you can’t quite make out anything but it all seems so familiar. I feel like there’s nothing to worry about and I couldn’t possibly be hurt here, even if I die. My gut is clenched and my eyes sting from the wind and my whole body aches from holding in to something so out of control, so reckless but I don’t notice it as I take the wide turn around the mountain all I feel is comfort. I can’t tell you why or how but nothing really matters now, if I live or die is up to pure chance so it’s not worth worrying about and my troubles couldn’t possibly ever beat me if I make it out of this alive and o won’t have to worry about them if I’m dead. So there is nothing left but comfort. All there is left to do is take it all in.