So there I am at the top of the hill set up on my tobaggan looking confidently ahead at my path below. It was the final ride of the night before my fellow mafioso and I decided to retire for the evening after ditching a raid on a truck depot for some tobagganing.

Having not participating in an OC for a long time, we decided to to take up another exciting *youthful* activity: TOBAGGANING. It had been awhile since willingly gearing up to plummet down a hill in the freezing cold, but hey- I recall enjoying it when I was YOUNGER.

I have to admit a few things have changed, for one I wasn't approaching the uphill walk with as much moxie or enthusiasm I had once had many years ago, the snow felt colder on my back as it found it's way into my jacket while I was sprawling down the hill, the downward trip didn't seem as thrilling as it once had either. The novelty of the whole idea wore out pretty quickly actually; after about the 2nd run and 11th snowball thrown by Africanus.

To me, the most disappointing thing is when you try and recreate an experience that you had loved years ago and it's not remotely the same. The whole tobagganing experience put me into reflection; if I didn't like tobagganing anymore maybe I don't like playing baseball either. Further, maybe I can't do cartwheels or tapdance *grin* and I probably hate the music I liked as a kid too.

Efforts are rewarded though when you find that the activity of yesteryear- whatever it might be- hasn't changed, and it's as everything had stayed the same. It brings a sense of calmness to know that some things never change and it's as if all things are right in the world- just because you've discovered the old frequently visited hamburger joint still makes milkshakes the way they used to and they taste just the same and just as good.

I'm not sure why we tend to look to the past for comfort, or why we believe we'll still like something though we hadn't done it in years or even thought about doing it.

With a big push from CashMoneyMillionaire and DiegoNieto, I'm racing down the hill. My tobaggan spins around and suddenly I am riding down the hill backwards. My stylish fedora grips my head tightly and slips down over my eyes. I hear screams of warnings from my cohorts and internally too, but by this time it's too late, I hit a jump backwards and I am air born. I crash land with a paralyzing pain from my ass.

For a similarly nostalgic (if slightly more rewarding) experience, perhaps we should have raided that truck depot instead. At least I know I still like money.