Those who know me well, know I was, in my youth, an eighth-degree black belt in pogo stick jumping. If my mother could have ever seen me hopping on my pogo stick up and down our high, steep cellar stairs–ho, boy!
Now, though, as I contemplate such videos as these, I wonder: “What was I thinking? How did I manage not to kill myself, doing that?”
Ah! But just once let me get my hands on a pogo stick again–!