Go-kart

I used to live out in the hill country of the US. With six and a half acres, my family needed something to do with the land. So what did we do?

We bought a go-kart. It was a simple one seated racing go-kart. Top speed was around 35 mph with the engine configuration we had it set on. It was capable of much faster, but we never figured out how to unleash the full potential of the engine.

Due to it being a racing model, it had no shock absorption whatsoever. Fred Flintstones's chair had more cushioning.

One day I decided to see how fast I could get the go-kart to go. What I should have done is driven parallel to the terraces. Instead, I went at a 90 degree angle.

I gunned the engine as if I was a drag racer. I hit the first terrace and flew an inch off of the ground. Nearly lost control when I hit, but no problem. I floored it, with the hopes of still hitting top speed.


I hit the next terrace.

It was a rather cool E.T. moment.

It was until I remembered about the lack of cushioning.

I gained a whole new level of respect for those that have chronic back pain. Why?

Due to the shape of the go-kart, I had essentially done a cannon-ball into the ground.


A Swimmingly Good Time

The above incident had taught me how to not make the go-kart fly. As time progressed, I became better at driving it without causing a rollover (due to the terrain and the speeds I was driving this was quite a feat). A particular bad rainstorm brought my go-karting to a standstill.

I would get home everyday after school and check to see if the monster puddles were gone. After a week, all that was left was some mud.

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to go drive the go-kart. After all, it was just mud. What could possibly happen?

I snuck out and went trailblazing in the tall grass. No mowing of fast growing grass creates foot tall grass in a week. After having my fill of deciding my future course, I realized I had strayed too far from the house.

I made a beeline (excuse the cliche) back towards the house.

I come over the first rise and see mud. No biggie. I am wearing jeans. They are meant to get dirty.

Next rise reveals a small puddle. So my shoes are going to get wet. No biggie.

Next rise reveals a moderate size puddle. What the heck. I thought all the puddles were gone. So I would need to get a dry pair of jeans. No biggie.

The last rise revealed the M.O.A.P. (Mother Of All Puddles).

I was drenched in cold, stagnant water smelling suspiciously like the cattle ranch next door.

As the mushroom cloud dissipated, the go-kart slowly rolled out of the puddle.

Putttttt atattah puttt attatah

Putt aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh

Yup.

I had flooded the engine.

The go-kart began to slowly roll back into the puddle. As the water began to rise up towards my waist, I began to beat my head on the steering wheel.

Frap

Fraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.

Engine kicked in and I shot out of the water.

Was the go-kart the only witness to this?

No.

My family was doubled over in laughter. None of them were capable of breathing.

Where did they come from?

My girlfriend at the time decided to call when I hit the second puddle. They had come outside to find me...

...I had to call her back so she could regain her composure.