One day, when I was 12 or 13 years old, I was home alone. I wasn't supposed to go anywhere, while no one was home, and it was raining. So, I was stuck in the house, with nothing much to do.
I wandered out to the carport, and sat on my Buzz Bike. I slowly rode in a small circle on the concrete. Then, I sped up a little bit, and leaned into it. Faster and faster I went, riding on a slab of concrete almost the size of a two-car garage and then...POW! I was on the ground.
Hmmm. I got up, and started, again.
Round and round I rode, faster and faster, leaning farther over as my speed increased. The tire slipped, and I slapped a foot to the ground to avoid falling. It seemed to me that I could find a sweet spot, and get the tire slipping and still ride. Powerslide!
So, I kept trying. I would ride a few rounds and either fall, or slide just a little bit and almost (but not quite) get it. Over and over, round and round. I spent the entire afternoon riding my bike as fast as I could in a 10-foot diameter circle.
Eventually, my mom and my sister arrived home from their shopping expedition. I was still riding nowhere, fast, when they got out of the car.
"How long have you been doing that?" Joy asked.
"All day," I said, skidding to a halt.
"Bored?" she asked.
"Not any more!"