My friend Tiffany just posted memories of snow days and it took me back to living at the merge of Manley, Duncan, and Reynolds drive hills.
Growing up, my house sat on the corner of the two steepest hills in West Tennessee, and just down from a third. They may have been the only 3 hills in West Tenn. This was great for two things, 1. riding bikes and 2. sledding. It was also good for wrecking both. Everyone from my neighborhood has a story about a wreck they had on those hills. Most of the stories involve trips to the ER. Yes, this includes super cautious me. Although mine did not require medical treatment, I do still have tiny scars.
One year after the perfect snow for sledding we were taking turns riding down the smaller hill next to the house. I guess it was my brother's turn for a trip to the doctor that day because he hit the end of the cove just right and went flying.
My parents took him in to get x-rayed because his wrist was looking pretty nasty. After a few minutes the doctor comes back in and says they need to x-ray the other arm as well. This made no sense because his other arm was fine. Then the doctor explained that Matt's wrist was bent and they didn't think a sledding accident could do that and they wanted to check to see if the other arm matched. It did, and he was sent home. If I had a dollar for every time a doctor has said to one of my family members "We've never run across this before" I could...well, pay all the doctors bills that come after that statement.
I never had a sledding wreck, but only because I was too scared to go fast. It must be genetic because Nikki is the exact same way.