Under a bush walking home the other week I found a knackered looking rusty old and very tall pogo stick. It was no ordinary pogo as it had a pair of moto-cross type handle bars on the top and it had these two massive springs. It looked like it had been thrown over a wall or something but where I found it was miles away from anywhere. It did not make sense where it was. It was as if someone had hopped it here, fell off and just left it. Near to it was a yellow smiley badge pressed in the dirt, which I left.
One lunchtime a couple of us started messing around on it to see how many hops we could do. One guy managed about twenty hops but his mate could not get passed three. My mobile rang with an important call so I could not have my go and everyone peeled off.
Later on that night when everyone had gone home, I had a go on the pogo. I found that I could jump up and down on the thing for as long as I wanted. It was really freaky, as if I had been meant to do it. I just looked ahead and I could keep this thing pumping up and down for probably the rest of the day!
I sat down quite surprised at myself. And I wondered if I could ride the pogo down the lane a bit.
One thing about this pogo-ing is its bloody hard work! After a few minutes your legs start burning up. But if you do smaller hops and relax a bit, it’s a lot easier to do.
The rubber was missing off the bottom of the steel shaft so the thing stuck in the ground, particularly if it was soft. So I bodged it up with some duct tape and cardboard which seemed to do the trick. I could get this thing to go pretty much anywhere I wanted. I live near a canal and I hopped this thing over an old pack horse bridge and onto the old tow path.
One thing about this pogo-ing is it's bloody hard work! After a few minutes your legs start burning up. But if you do smaller hops and relax a bit, it’s a lot easier to do. Using a lot less effort I managed to hop and skip quite a long way down the side of the canal, fully aware that if I got it wrong, I’d end up in the drink.
Passing under an old stone bridge, I banged my head. There were a few people giving me funny looks so I got off and walked home, leaving the pogo stick under a bush near my house.
Not wanting to look a prat again, I got up really early one morning. It was mid-summer and very bright at about half 4. I wanted to go on a big pogo trip along the canal without anyone staring at me. Very soon I was getting a big distance between each hop. I got a bit ruddy close to the edge and almost fell in the water a few times.
I went up quite a steep gradient and was soon in open country. Horses and sheep turned their heads and birds flew off as I made this mad banging noise up the tow path. It was utterly brilliant and quite a mad thing to do. I passed a couple of fishermen who completely ignored me. Maybe they saw this all the time? Maybe they were just lost in their own worlds.
I found that I could jump up and down on the thing for as long as I wanted. It was really freaky, as if I had been meant to do it.
After about an hour I was feeling pretty knackered. If I walked down a steep path I would be very close to a train station where I could take a short trip back home.
I hid the pogo stick carefully under a hedge, covering it over with leaves so no one could see it, round the corner from the station where I could easily find it later. I caught the train home and went back to bed. I was planning to return and continue my adventure another bright morning. I wondered how far I could go.
How far has anyone gone on a pogo stick?
I got busy all of a sudden with work and forgot all about it. I did not get the chance to go back to the pogo for quite a long time. When I finally returned to the station, the pogo stick had gone. How the hell did that happen? I had totally buried it and hidden it from view!
I wondered if someone else had discovered its magic like I had. Is someone riding it now?
Other stories you should read
Click here for more Life stories
Click here to follow Sabotage Times on Twitter
Click here to follow Sabotage Times on Facebook