I sit on my Huffy Stingray staring at the 45-degree hill. I'm going to kill myself. This went so much better in my head. Besides, I have taken all the precautions. I have my football helmet, my Evel Knievel pajamas, and my emerald amulet that my grams gave me before she died. She told me it would protect me. I do not believe it is true. But it never hurts to be safe. I exhale and lift my feet off the ground. My tires echo against the asphalt. The mountain road winds and dips like the Texas Cyclone. The houses zip by in a blur of black and white. MY handlebars shake from side to side. I tighten my grip as the downtown traffic echoes through the stretch of the last 50 yards. The cars drive back and forth as I brake. The chain falls off. My muscles become tense. I ride through the blinking red light and close my eyes. Everything becomes as dark as night.