I can steer a bit, and I can sometimes avoid the rocks or
bumps in the hill, if I see them.
Sometimes I can’t, and the wagon turns over. So I can either cry, get back in, or do both.
Eventually, I get to the bottom of the hill. It’s kind of a letdown, but necessary. Theoretically, I should wait awhile before
starting for the next hill. This is a
time to rest and reflect.
When I’m ready, I go ahead, pulling the wagon, going up the
next hill, and then, at the top, getting in and, afraid but excited, starting
down the hill again.
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