It was an old logging road on my grandma’s farm.  No longer used for logging we decided it would make a great sledding trail,  “race you to the bottom” we would say to each other.  Man did that hill make you go or what, who knows how fast, just fast!  It was an amazing drop off the side of a mountain, but we loved it and it was addicting so we went back for several years to sled the very same run.  It was nicknamed suicide run because our aunts and uncles thought we were crazy for going sledding there and also had the nickname dead man’s cliff because of the 30-40 foot drop into a valley on one side of the run.  There were some days on that hill that I seriously thought oh, shit this is it, im ganna go off the edge at the very top of the hill where it was a complete drop off.  One time it was so icy and we really shouldn’t have gone there but we liked being crazy so what the hell.  I got on my sled before anyone else and took off down the hill, I was going so fast because of the ice layer about half way down I flipped it over on the ice and flew for the cliff edge sliding on my face across the icy surface.  Saved by the berry bushes and a tree again,  “wow that was close”.  Of course walking back the trail on a dark winter night with a few of my cousins and brothers it was yet another great moment in time I will never forget.