Hero of Bullfrog Hill

When we were kids, we headed for Bullfrog Hill as soon as the first flakes stuck to the ground. We took homemade sleds, trashcan lids, dishpans and anything else we thought might slide and through the woods and across the fields we went. There was no need to call around; everyone would show up sooner or later. After all, Bullfrog Hill was the only really dangerous place we were allowed to go and only because our parents didn't know how really dangerous it was. Sitting at the top, you could feel your heart beat faster as you looked down that sixty degree slope and planned your turn at the bottom two hundred feet below. You had to turn to avoid going into the creek. After so many years of sleds, carts, bicycles and even cardboard boxes, the turn had built up quite a bank on the left side. The creek itself was a tributary of Mill Creek and joined it at a point where Mill Creek was just five or six feet wide, but there was a swimming hole beyond the bank and it was deep enough to wet you from head to toe.

When I was twelve, one of my cousins came into possession of the most wonderful winter toy that has ever existed. He had a corner section from an old ESSO service station. It was two feet wide and four feet long and turned up about six inches on one end. The inside was some kind of metal and the outside was enameled porcelain, the slickest substance known to man. All we needed was snow.

My sister's family was at our house, when the first flake fell. I asked if I could go to Bullfrog Hill and Mama said "Yes, if you take Steve with you." Steve was my six-year-old nephew, he whined constantly, his nose ran continuously and he was scared of his own shadow, but there was no alternative. I took him with me. Halfway there, he was already crying because he couldn't keep up, so I put him on my old beat-up sled and pulled him the rest of the way.

When we finally got to the Hill, Randy and Chuck were there and had packed the snow with an old dishpan. The sleds were running good when Danny Wayne showed up with his masterpiece. Everyone gathered around and waited for him to make his run. He pulled his mismatched gloves up, adjusted his collar and tugged his toboggan down over his ears. It got real calm, the only sound was Steve sniffling occasionally, and then away he went like a bat out of Hell, at least 200 miles per hour. He barely made the curve and then completely cleared the creek at the narrow part and ended up in the open field on the other side. You could have heard us yelling two miles away it was fantastic.

Danny Wayne pulled the ESSO express back to the top and asked the one question we were all dreading, "Who's next?"

It got so quiet you could hear the snow falling through the trees. No one said a word. Then Billy said he heard his Momma calling and Randy said he would go, but his leg was hurting. Chuck and I were staring at each other, daring the other to speak, when we heard those words. "I'll do it"

We all turned to face Steve. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and pushed his cap back out of his eyes and said. "It's my turn, I haven't got to ride all day, I want to go."

Everyone turned to me. I shook my head, "No, if anything happens to him, my sister will skin me alive."

Billy said "Come on, he hasn't had any fun"

"Yeah" said Randy "Let him go, it will be fun"

Chuck filled in " I was gonna go, but let him go before it gets too fast for him."

Before I could stop them, they had my charge loaded on that time bomb and were giving him instructions on how to handle the curve, how to bail out if it got too fast, and what to do if he started toward a tree. The next thing I knew he was gone. That trip put Danny's to shame. No one had ever gone down Bullfrog Hill that fast and no one had ever missed the turn that badly. He rode up the bank and flew fifteen in the air, right between two large Oaks and then disappeared from sight, crashing onward to the swimming hole below.

No one moved. No one spoke. No one breathed. We stayed like that for three full minutes, then as if a gun had fired, we tore off down the side of that hill like the Devil himself were after us. As we ran up the bank, we could hear splashing and I knew that my nephew had drowned and I could feel the skin being pulled from my naked body by my insane sister. I sat down and started crying, "OH Lord! Oh Dear Lord!"

Danny Wayne's voice brought me back "Are you Okay?"

Then I heard Steve, "Yeah, but help me get it out of the water, I want to go again"

Steve became a man that day and the rest of us had to ride that deathtrap to prove that we were men too.

It is strange what you'll remember; sitting by the fire as the snow piles up outside, strange, but also heartwarming. I think tomorrow, I'll visit a place I haven't been in years. Now, where did I put that sled?