It was the summer of '63... I had a new Stingray bicycle with butterfly handlebars & a banana seat. I looked to the top of that 3-story trough of steel on the Virginia street side & said "I can do that". With my trusted rope, I pulled my bike to the top, postured myself & with brakes applied I made it down without incidence. I then surmised it would be a piece of cake to make a successful trip down the split fire escape with no brakes. With nerves of steel I trekked up with rope in tow and negotiated my trusted ride to the top. With no regrets, I threw caution to the wind and thrust myself forward… let’s see, if memory serves me, I woke up some 4 hours later, not knowing how I got home, with a hell of knot on the side of my head and abrasions where I didn’t know skin grew.