Hey Fellas, Hold My Hot Pink Virgin Lemonade Martini And Watch This

If I recall correctly, I used to do the exact same thing when I was a kid, except there would be a lot fewer people watching and I would have to clean the blood and broken branches out of my Little Tyke's Coupe myself. Every once and a while I'd have to go get Dad to pull the wreckage of red and yellow convertible out of the ditch next to my house. He was pretty mad the first time, because my little car didn't start out as a convertible -- it sort of ended up that way after some on-the-fly modifications. Big branches and roofs don't go together very well.

One thing I realized during my trips down the slight incline in my Mother's back garden is that nothing beats having the wind in your hair, the bugs in your teeth, and the twigs in your eyes. Sometimes avoiding the trees isn't the best option. Sometimes you've gotta hit them dead on to have any fun.

Then again, I wasn't very bright when I was 16.

[Thanks to that magnificent specimen of Borderline Sociopathic Boy, Charles Schneider, for sending that one along]