Kind of reminds me of the time my older cousins talked me into getting into the center of a truck tire and rolling me down a steep meadow. I made it about 100 yards before I bounced out. I was about 6 years old at the time.
Or the time I dove out of a tree into the river wearing a football helmet to so the top of my head wouldn't sting the way it does when you dive and don't get your hands positioned just right. Bad idea, almost broke my neck. Or the time three of us guys spent the afternoon jumping off the barn roof onto a pile of horse manure. It was a really soft place to land. No broken bones, but my mother wasn't thrilled by that fact. She made me wash my clothes in a wash tub in the back yard. Boredom was a terrible thing that I refused to suffer for any long period of time.