One Winter, My Family Sledded Into a Tree

In high school, it never failed that when we got enough snow to cancel school, it always fell on the weekend and had always melted or been plowed sufficiently for school on Monday.  For whatever reason, Neptune, the God of liquid snow, seemed to want me to complete my education.

One such weekend, we got about a half-foot of snow and my family decided that we wanted to go sledding.

There are two hills near my house.  One is in the middle of the road in front of my house.  The other is in the back yard.

The road, interestingly, is the safer of the two hills.  We get very little traffic on my street and even less during a snow storm.  The disappointing thing is that this hill is deceptively tame.  It seems steep when you accidentally find yourself going 55 down it in an SUV, but when you’re in a sled going slower than a house for sale in Detroit, it’s not very rewarding.

The other option is my tree-filled back yard.  My family opted to sled down this hill. 

We stood in slippery pants and beanies at the top of the hill for ten minutes trying to scope out a route that wouldn’t necessitate having a rescue helicopter on standby.  Worse yet, we were using the saucer-type sleds which have no steering mechanism whatsoever.

My dad pointed out a path near the edge of the yard which was a fairly clean shot to the gully at the bottom of the hill where a large snow dune would stop us.  The only problem was a large oak tree looming ominously close to the perfectly straight line down which we would have to aim ourselves.

Predicting trouble, my dad climbed down the hill and pushed snow up against the base of the tree, creating a sloped bank that would push us away from the it.  At least that was its theoretical purpose.

“So who’s first?”  My dad asked when he had climbed back up to us.

“Me!  Me!”  I shouted, jumping in front of my sister.

I set down my saucer sled and jumped on.

The first ride is always the slowest, especially for saucer-sleds.  The snow compresses down after a few runs and a track of hard snow is created and the ride gets faster, so this first run wasn’t super exciting.  A little annoyed, I popped off of the sled at the bottom of the hill and climbed back up.

My mom went.  And then my sister.  It seemed like each run was going a little bit faster than the last.  Our snow-path was compacting nicely.

We cycled through the whole family a couple times before the hill started to get really fast.

My dad jumped on his sled and bulleted down the hill.  He hit the snow bank he had created to keep us away from the tree, but he was going too fast.  Instead of bouncing off of the bank, he barreled through it, directly into the tree.  His sled had spun around so he hit the tree sideways with his shoulder.  With a loud “SMACK,” he turned into a lifeless pile of flailing limbs.

We watched from the top of the hill as he coughed and gathered himself shakily to his feet.

“The first two thirds of that was actually pretty good.”  He wheezed. 

My mom looked at him worriedly.

“I’m fine,”  he reassured, “just aim around the tree.”

So my mom jumped on the sled and whizzed down the hill.  Right into the tree.

It looked as though her teeth absorbed most of the impact.  She lied motionless at the bottom of the hill.  This was going to be a dumb obituary.

Then, miraculously, she too coughed and stood.  There was no blood, no broken anything.  I still have no idea how she managed to not break her face into half.  Sometimes if it’s quiet I can still hear the sound of molars against wood.

She trudged up the hill dizzily toward us.  “Just…just aim around the tree.  You’ll be fine.”

So I took a running start down the hill.

My eyes teared up from the wind as it whipped violently past.  Though my vision was bleary, I could make out that I was headed directly for the tree.  I tried to steer around it, but saucer-sleds aren’t built with that feature. 

I hit the embankment that my father had constructed in front of the tree but I was going so fast that instead of going around it, I was launched over it like a jump.  I hung in the air, clutching the saucer in vain.  My short life played before my smeary eyes.

I smashed into the tree three feet above the ground with my upper body.  My lower body continued around the tree, turning me into a human helicopter blade as I remained airborne.  I landed several seconds later in the snow dune at the base of the hill.  The sled caught up with me and ran into my groin.

“Oh, my God!  Honey, are you okay?”  My mother rasped from the top of the hill.

“Yeah.”  I managed to squeak. 

I dragged myself onto all fours.  My wounded balls prevented me from standing the whole way up.  I left my sled and started to crawl up the hill.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  My dad asked, nursing his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m fine.  That tree is really hard though.”  I had to take a short break because the waves of pain coming from all over my body were temporarily too much to handle.  I looked up at my sister who was staring at my parents and me with a mixture of horror and disdain.  “Grace, you’re next.  Just aim around the tree.”  I instructed her.

“Are you shitting me?”  She said flatly.  “I just watched all three of you hit the same tree.”  My parents and I all exchange glances.   “Darwin would be ashamed.”

We stood holding our injured parts as my sister loosened her scarf and about-faced toward the house.

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I guarantee that this is a true story.