The following piece was sent to da Slapster from Ryan via E-mail...This young lad wrote it last year while he was in 9th grade...Ryan ain't posted on da board yet, so he asked da Slapster to hang it on one of the walls in the Neighborhood...Slappy think you gonna like this one:
My Home
The place where I call home doesn’t have a roof over your head or the security of a locked door. This place is where the sun sets in different shades of red, orange, pink, blue, and purple. This place is where the sand confiscates the land like locusts on a vegetable garden. The only sounds are the high pitch screech of motors. The place where I call home is Glamis, The Sand Toy Capital of the World.
In this place of majestic beauty where only shrubs grow here and there. The only thing from stopping you ride is the beating of the suns rays. For once in your life you feel free from the city life and pollution. Now you have nothing but open land to ride and do as you please. As the day goes on the heat starts to build, but that doesn’t stop you from riding. To you the only thing that can stop you from riding is nothing. You feel invincible as you cruise up, down, left, and right through the dunes. As time goes on the sun starts to set and the blistering cold comes into play. You ride back to camp to take a break. The cold thinks he has won, but he is wrong as you come back out with a jacket on.
Once darkness takes over the sky, all comes to a stop. Everyone goes into eat. Silence has fallen over the dunes. As you eat as quick as you can, just to get out and ride again. People flee their R.V’s and Campers and head out to Competition Hill. Once you step outside, you can smell the clean, cold, crisp air of the desert. Once everyone is ready, your camp heads out to Competition Hill for an adrenalin rush you couldn’t even imagine beyond your wildest dreams. When you arrive to Competition Hill it reminds you of the city, crowded with lights. Right when you get up to the front line to race, you pull just a little in front to challenge someone. Once you have a challenger or challengers you look left, you look right, and you’re off through the whoops, with your heart racing at a million miles per hour. You hit the straight away doing fifty to fifty-five miles per hour.
When you realize you got to the top and your opponents aren’t in sight, you can claim yourself victorious. As you ride back down and feel the physical weakness of your body, you realize you’re exhausted. So you gather up everyone in your camp and when their ready to go you take off back to camp through the ups and downs of the pitched black dunes. The only thing guiding you is the light on your bike and your memory. When you pull up to camp exhausted you head for your R.V. to take a shower and go to bed waiting for the next day of a great adrenalin rush.
Written by,
Ryan