Hulk420
New member
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2025
- Messages
- 12
Back when summer break felt like a lifetime and the only thing we cared about was dialing in dirt jumps and riding our busted BMX bikes until the streetlights came on. We had this spot just outside town — we called it The Ridge. It wasn’t much, just homemade ramps, packed dirt trails, and a circle of lawn chairs that had seen better days. But to us, it was our personal X-Games and therapy session rolled into one.
That’s where it happened — my first time getting high.
Now, I wasn’t the rebel of the group. My name’s Justin, and I was more the "fix-your-chain and build-you-a-ramp" kind of guy. But on that day, I showed up with something different: a joint I’d rolled at home while pretending it was “just for art class” if anyone asked. Yeah... dumb, but it worked.
I lit it up, leaned back against a big old maple tree, and let the weed do its thing.
I swear, the leaves above me started dancing. The sun was slicing through the branches like a kaleidoscope, and it felt like the tree was breathing — like it knew I was finally in the club. I sat there for what felt like hours, just existing in the moment, floating in a daydream.
Here’s what was probably going through my head:
What if trees could talk and remembered everything they saw?
Could I ride my bike so fast it broke the sound barrier?
Do squirrels have family drama too?
How the hell is the sky that blue?
Classic stoner thoughts — the kind that only make sense when your brain is marinated in your first real weed high.
After about fifteen minutes of being one with nature, I stood up, tossed the roach, and locked eyes on the biggest ramp we’d ever built.
No warm-up. No helmet. No brains, apparently.
I pedaled like I was in a video game, hit the ramp full-send, caught air — and completely forgot how to land. My back tire dropped hard, handlebars twisted, and next thing I know, I’m doing the world’s worst Superman impression, flying ass-over-handlebars straight into the dirt.
Hard.
Dust everywhere. Everyone froze for a second — and then the whole crew exploded with laughter. Not mocking me — just full-blown, can’t-breathe, crying-level stoner giggles.
And me?
I laid there on my back, staring back up at those dancing leaves and laughing my high ass off. Because honestly?
That was the best crash of my life.
That’s where it happened — my first time getting high.
Now, I wasn’t the rebel of the group. My name’s Justin, and I was more the "fix-your-chain and build-you-a-ramp" kind of guy. But on that day, I showed up with something different: a joint I’d rolled at home while pretending it was “just for art class” if anyone asked. Yeah... dumb, but it worked.
I lit it up, leaned back against a big old maple tree, and let the weed do its thing.
I swear, the leaves above me started dancing. The sun was slicing through the branches like a kaleidoscope, and it felt like the tree was breathing — like it knew I was finally in the club. I sat there for what felt like hours, just existing in the moment, floating in a daydream.
Here’s what was probably going through my head:
What if trees could talk and remembered everything they saw?
Could I ride my bike so fast it broke the sound barrier?
Do squirrels have family drama too?
How the hell is the sky that blue?
Classic stoner thoughts — the kind that only make sense when your brain is marinated in your first real weed high.
After about fifteen minutes of being one with nature, I stood up, tossed the roach, and locked eyes on the biggest ramp we’d ever built.
No warm-up. No helmet. No brains, apparently.
I pedaled like I was in a video game, hit the ramp full-send, caught air — and completely forgot how to land. My back tire dropped hard, handlebars twisted, and next thing I know, I’m doing the world’s worst Superman impression, flying ass-over-handlebars straight into the dirt.
Hard.
Dust everywhere. Everyone froze for a second — and then the whole crew exploded with laughter. Not mocking me — just full-blown, can’t-breathe, crying-level stoner giggles.
And me?
I laid there on my back, staring back up at those dancing leaves and laughing my high ass off. Because honestly?
That was the best crash of my life.
