March 27, 2025: The Zip Line

It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

And one of the most fun.

In college, my buddies and I met some guys in Athens, GA. We hit it off immediately, and soon we found ourselves invited on a mysterious adventure the following weekend. Curious, we agreed — because that’s exactly what students do.

Late that next Saturday night, we showed up at the rendezvous point, under cover of darkness. Their pickup truck sat at the bottom of a bridge, wires stretching upward like some DIY daredevil operation.

It turned out to be a homemade zip line. Surely illegal. But who thinks about rules when you’re young?

After climbing to the top, I strapped into their makeshift harness, connected myself to the cable, and, with a final breath, plunged into the blackness below.

Safety never crossed my mind. Neither did consequences.

I didn’t escape uninjured, though. Gripping the rope with gloves to slow down, I misjudged the stop. The friction seared my wrist, leaving a second-degree burn that required weeks of daily clinic visits.

Still, looking back, I’d do it again. Dumb? Absolutely. Worth every reckless second? Without a doubt.

Why did this memory surface? Because this week I read about Evel Knievel, one of my childhood heroes. This dude straddled his Harley-Davidson and jumped buses, fountains, and a shark-filled tank. Even buckled himself into a rocket to soar across a canyon.

Sure, he broke nearly every bone in his body, but the crashes only deepened his icon status.

I’m glad to say I had my own Evel moment.

Except he had a Harley. I just got rope burn.