The Wobble of Death

Over a couple weeks in August, my brothers were able to come out and visit. One from North Carolina, one from Minnesota. The 4 (including my husband) of us are pretty close, and whenever the guys can come out - it's always a good time.

We went shopping at the mall one day. . . and about 2 hours before this photo was taken, Jeff (the one on the left) bought a longboard. It's something his friends are into. Basically a long, surfboard-shaped board that is similiar to a skateboard, but apparently different. And since Jeff enjoys tooling around on these things, he bought one on our shopping trip, along with a helmet.

About 1 hour before this photo was taken. . . Jeff didn't have that massive bandage on his arm.

We went from the mall to our parents house for dinner - around 50 minutes away. Jeff spent much of that time telling us all sorts of interesting facts about this style of boarding, along with things to watch out for. One of these things was 'The Wobble of Death' which he described as when the speed of the board gets to be so great that it starts to wobble first a little, and then with increasing frequency until the rider literally gets 'bucked off' his board.

So as we neared my parents house, we stopped at the the top of the sloping hilly road that they live on. . . and (as he was eager to try his new board out) let Jeff out to ride down on his own. We would follow behind just to make sure he was OK and to fend off any cars that may try to pass him, and we'd meet him at the house about a quarter mile down the hill.

So off Jeff went - new helmet, new board. His long locks waving in the wind. 5mph. . . 10mph. . . 15mph. . . 20mph! I was starting to get nervous at the speed; when John, Greg and I all noticed a bit of a . . . .Wobble.

Uh Oh.

Just as Jeff had - apparently prophetically - described; this slight wobble increased in momentum until it did, indeed look as if Jeff was riding some sort of crazed horse. His arms went out attempting to keep his balance, and then. . .like it was in slow motion. . . we watched him fly off the board, take two drunken high-speed steps (please remember his body was still going 20mph even if his legs weren't) and then fall and barrell roll down the street as his longboard shot off into the forest. Greg slammed on the brakes, we all ran out of the car to where Jeff was lying bloodied with torn jeans, shirt, and a scratched helmet. We were horrified.

Jeff had temporarily lost the ability to breathe and had also lost quite a bit of skin on the pavement. But though he was bloody and bruised, it didn't warrant a hospital visit, and so we gently helped him up and into the back of the car so he could catch his breath for a minute before we headed down the hill to scare my mother to death.

Jeff sat there gasping for air, and groaning in misery - and as he did my other brother John patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Yeah Jeff," he said contemplatively; "we see what you mean about that Wobble of Death."