And he had beautiful, hieroglyphical systems of divots and nicks on his hands from nail-banging and earlier hazards. When we weren't riding around on his motorcycle, or a chair-lift, or on bicycles through vacant lots in San Francisco at night, we were riding horses at his friend's ranch. I had ridden before, but this first time at the ranch the horses hadn't been ridden all winter. My hands were almost bloody just from the reins digging in as my steed galloped full-tilt for almost an hour. And when the horses finally slowed down to drink from a creek, there was my friend, still in his saddle and ready for the next new dare.
Society makes quick, almost unconscious judgments about people who have multiple scars.
They are either thought of as reckless or impetuous, suicidal or just accident-prone. While Kevin thought nothing of leaping off cliffs at Ft. After several weeks of lessons, I was just about to try my first solo flight off some dunes at Dillon Beach. Don't look at the ground. Easy moves, nothing extreme or panicky, and you'll be fine.