I spend last week on the south-east coast of England. The weather was miserable for the most part, but on the first day the clouds broke, I was foolishly persuaded to ride one of these:



And there I was, on the top of Devils Dyke near Brighton, wondering what the hell I got myself into. I had watched the run before mine and it had seemed pretty harmless. I was comforting myself with these thoughts. Boy was I wrong. Due to the wet grass and stiff breeze at our back, we covered the one and a half mile track in less than a minute. I tried to focus on the air above, but it went so fast it only made me nauseas. And the bouncing of the ball, whenever there was a bump in the road, didn't help either. But at-least I had a good laugh about the gentleman who accompanied me on the way down, he had his eyes closed and was screaming like a little girl the whole time. Normally I'm a sucker for roller-coaster rides, but I'll pass on the next occasion.