Where can you gap five foot drop-offs, climb over towering wood walls, and stand just inches from a twenty foot fall? A construction site of course! My friend Steve and I love it.
“Ring, ring, ring!” The phone started to vibrate on the table.
“Hello?” I said.
“You want to go to the construction site?” Steve, my neighbor asked.
“Yeah” I replied, hanging up the phone and heading for my bike.
The construction site on the top of my hill is basically a huge plot of land with a couple of dirt mounds and two foundations made of concrete. Before each concrete wall there is a five to ten foot ditch. I wondered what Steve had in mind today.
When I exited my driveway, no surprise here, Steve was pulling out of his.
“Wheres Thomas?” He asked, referring to my younger brother.
“At basketball.” I replied.
We rode up our hill and into a big lot with a paved road and two foundations on the right side. Steve and I parked our bikes on the curb of the lot and walked to a foundation on a gravel walkway. We hoped over the ditches and onto the concrete ledge. There were stray diet coke cans laying around from the previous workers and and stray timber left to rot. Steve and I hopped back over to the gravel walkway and he picked up a rock, throwing it.
“Hey, whoever gets a rock in that whole over there gets five bucks.” He challenged, pointing to a hole about ten inches wide, thirty feet away.
“Oh, you’re on.” I said, picking up a rock and chucking it at the hole. I didn’t see why not.
It bounced off the concrete wall next to it. Steve picked up a rock and launched it at the hole, just at that moment, the deafening sound of a truckers horn sounded. Steve and I dashed for our bikes, I was praying that he knew about the path in the woods. I sighed of relief as he led the way on the narrow path on to the opposite road.
“Woah, that was close,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, a little too close. Lets circle around onto Sport Hill and ride home,” Steve exclaimed.
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, coasting down the road, towards the main road.
We pulled left on to Sport Hill and rode about a quarter mile, pulling another left on to our street. I pulled into my driveway, giving Steve a silent nod.
“How was it?” My mom asked as I walked inside.
“Good,” I replied shortly.
In the end Steve and I still went up to the construction site. Only on Sundays now, to avoid another scenario like that. For the next week we told stories about it, making it sound like we were braver. But, inside we both knew that would never happen again.