Back when the world was flat, (1963 or so) I was riding on my friend's handlebars while on our way to the candy store. We screamed down "little store hill" and made it to the bottom. We were going pretty fast and hit a pothole which caused the front wheel to come off. There was a brief jumble of limbs and metal and asphalt, then we got up brushed ourselves off, and remounted the wheel "finger tight" and off to the candy store we went.
I replay that episode whenever I get going around 35 mph downhill.
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Note to self:
If a road has the word "Hill" included in it's name, it might not be a good idea to try it.