The field notes
How it got out of hand.
It started with a perfectly reasonable question: how much faster could we get to the other side of the trail? The answer involved a ramp, a red motorcycle, and Sandy yelling a very enthusiastic version of “hold on.”
Robert handled the throttle while Sandy handled the important work of looking spectacular in midair. For one brief, glorious second, the motorcycle, the dust, and the sunset all agreed that this was an excellent plan.
The landing was somewhere between controlled and memorable. We called it a success, because the wheels came down, nobody lost a boot, and the story got better every time we told it.