Risks and the Value of Consequences

Just ask around. Start with some 10-year-olds. Not the kind that keep their noses glued to the tube or their fingers on some joystick. Nope, ask the kids that measure a good snow by the sledding. These are the ones that know the thrills of a Killer Hill.

Risks offer some of life’s best lessons. I wouldn’t trade anything for the spills I endured sledding down a Killer Hill. Aside from the fun, sledding teaches that there are consequences to decisions.

Ours was the first farm outside of town. A portion of the farm’s acreage, in fact, paralleled a nearly defunct community “sands greens” golf course. Although golfers were few, the hilly grounds were maintained during the growing seasons, paving way for some excellent sled runs for us trespassers once the snows fell.

The longest and very best of these hills had only one drawback for sledding: the creek at the very bottom. You had to figure out a way around or safely over the creek bank. The right way, of course, was to drag enough snow into the gully to pack a pathway up and over harm’s way. This was work. It required a bit of planning, teamwork, and cooperation – when all us boys really wanted to do was to go sledding. So, our safety precautions were mostly just good intentions.

Talk to veterans of Killer Hills and you’ll hear quite a variety when it comes to sleds. Not everybody could afford a Western Flyer, the sleek wooden sleds with the narrow, red metal runners. Killer Hills are those so steep that many things will do …truck tire inner tubes, the hood off an old car, even the slick side of a refrigerator door. Be creative — you know, show a little personality, depending on the snow and ice.

But on our Killer Hill a sled, a real sled with flexible turning runners, was about the only thing that gave us a chance to maneuver at such high sledding speeds. The margin for error was slight. The consequence of hitting that creek bank head on was painful. Most of the time we’d bail out in time to watch whatever we were riding smack hard into the creek bank. Part of the rush was seeing how tough you could be if you overshot or undershot the snow bridge. Besides, a face full of snowflakes was great to camouflage the tears of 10-year-old.

Unfortunately, when it comes to sledding, it doesn’t have to involve a hill to get a killer thrill.

My most perilous memory involved a couple of cousins riding with me atop a truck hood attached to a 50-foot rope, attached to the back of a narrow-front WD Allis-Chalmers tractor. If you used the separate wheel brakes, the driver could make that little tractor spin like a top…  to slingshot sledders in wide circles as the tractor cut tight doughnuts.

It was a real life discovery about the power of centrifugal force. Then the rope broke.

Suddenly, that woven wire fence wasn’t so far away. Calculations for impact measured in seconds as we nearly soared over the snow and ice. I was calculating the odds on splitting the space between the steel posts we’d set about 12 feet apart when the telephone pole suddenly loomed ahead. Worse, a steel cable secured to a rather large steel anchor sticking out of the frozen ground promised no forgiveness.

Things seem to slow down when everything happens so fast. I remember clearly thinking, “This was a stupid way to have fun.”

Luckily, just like in America’s Home Videos, no one was seriously hurt. Our makeshift sled bounded straight into the woven wire fence, missing cable, pole and posts. The fence was new enough to still sport its galvanization, yet old enough to sag between the steel posts rather than harshly taut. All three of us boys were so bundled up against winter’s cold that our padding saved us from even getting a scrape. We hit headfirst into the fence but bounced back into the pasture as softly as if we’d slid into a rubber band.

Yes, we were stupid. Stupid! …and very lucky. It is never a wise choice to supercharge the sledding experience by being pulled by a vehicle.

Obviously, any type of sledding can be risky. Someone might get hurt. But in today’s world, more to the point, someone might get sued.

I read where nationwide sledding injuries sent nearly 230,000 kids to emergency rooms from 1997-2007, according to the Center for Injury Research and Policy based in Columbus, Ohio. Studies on this are important to injury lawsuits, like these examples:

$2.4 million given to a family in Omaha, NE, after a 5-year-old was paralyzed after her sled hit a tree

$2.75 million awarded to a Sioux City, IA, man who injured his spinal cord after crashing into a stop sign

$12 million awarded to a Boone, Iowa, sledder who collided with a concrete cube

Some cities now ban sledding. Dubuque, Iowa, has made sledding illegal in 48 of the city’s 50 public parks and imposes a $750 fine on repeat offenders. Other cities have taken less drastic measures, banning sledding on only the most dangerous hills and removing jump ramps. Many cities now require sledders to wear helmets and post sternly worded signs, all with the intent of lowering liability.

We really don’t have enough snowfall in Northwest Missouri to make this a continuous, ongoing concern. But lawsuits in Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, and Ohio are challenging the near immunity of laws protecting public entities from liability lawsuits.

Now, here’s something worth your worry: Forcing kids off hills and public parks will just drive the sledding to the streets. Odds are higher for injuries when sledding is done on streets.

Sledding is inherently dangerous. At whatever level, whenever and whatever you do is at your own risk.

I admit I’ve done some stupid things while sledding. But I know I began to understand consequences better whenever I chose to take risks – and that’s a lesson best learned if self taught.

Let me put it another way.

There’re lots more details and stories I could share about my Killer Hill (including how “Killer Hill” back then doesn’t look like much of a killer now). But, truth be told, we hardly ever started sledding from the very top of that hill. We came to respect firsthand how we couldn’t hold anything on course going so fast. The risk of mistiming a bailout off a zooming sled was too great; the unexpected happens. And trying to be safe when you hit the creek bank didn’t count for anything.

Killer Hill at least introduced this lesson long before we obtained a driver’s license and a set of car keys: You are responsible for your own decisions.