Rivers and streams were swollen to the brink of bursting. It was a year not unlike this about a decade ago, when my youthful exuberance and thirst for adventure led me headlong into a dicey situation in which I had no business being.
With the water that year flowing as high as testosterone in our blood, three buddies and I packed kayaks into the back of my pickup and headed to the river. We were as ill-equipped that day as a tadpole in a tidal wave.
Only one of the four of us (not me) had any real experience on whitewater — and by real, I mean watching others paddle into the rapids to perform aquatic acrobatics in a boat not much bigger than a cafeteria tray. How hard could it be?
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