Stephen the Anxious Daredevil

The ramp stretched high into the air on one side of the Grand Canyon. It was constructed of scaffolding and looked like an incomplete roller coaster track. If you stood at the bottom and looked up squinting in the Nevada sun you’d see a little dot right at the top. That little dot was a jet powered canoe. It was mounted pointing down almost vertically at the steepest, highest point of the ramp. The canoe sat on a little frame that held the wheels, a pair of wings that had been designed with all the aeronautical technology that could be found in a garden shed, and an oversized jet engine bolted to the back. The wheels were held in place via a big metal lever bolted to the ramp just waiting for the pilot to pull it and release the jet powered flimsiness sending it hurtling down the ramp. The contraptions' similarity to a canoe was doubtful at best but that was what the record was, and there weren’t that many records left to break. The first jump over the Grand Canyon in a canoe. The pilot was strapped in so tightly the whole vehicle was shaking, as well as swaying in the breeze up there. As Stephen the daredevil sat there staring down the three hundred foot ramp leading off the edge of the world he had one huge and pressing thought taking up all of his mind ‘Had he left his oven on?’

Anxiety had been a constant feature of Stephen's life ever since he could remember. As a small child his world had been filled with the terror of barely understood snippets he had heard from the news, or adult conversations. He was terrified of nuclear bombs, or home intruders, or nuclear powered burglars with big teeth from banned breed dogs. His anxiety couldn’t ever leave it at that though. It was like a chronic improv group. Once, to get back at his sister for some act of childhood bullying he’d snuck an egg timer in her bag before school set to go off as she was sitting on the bus. He thought this would be funny until she left the house. After that point of no return childhood Stephen was tormented to actual sickness by the thoughts of the egg timer going off, scaring the bus driver giving him a heart attack and the bus crashing not just anywhere, but straight through his mum's office killing her too. See. Anxiety, the improv group from hell. Take it and build upon it. 

Into his teenage years enough had become enough. Help for chronic anxiety wasn’t really a thing back then. Snap out of it was the general consensus. So he decided to. He always had nightmares about falling so he saved up his money and went on a skydive. His legs were jelly as the instructor he was strapped to shuffled him out of the plane and they plummeted to the earth before the parachute opened and they glided down safe and sound. Job done. Fears faced. Anxiety banished. Except of course it wasn't. Now his falling dreams had a far more realistic quality. That didn’t stop him though and Stephen rode motorcycles, skateboarded, and Base jumped. Anything to finally tame the bastard anxious thoughts that spun round his head. It didn’t work. It turned out he wasn’t overly bothered about his own safety, but terrified of somehow doing something that affected everyone around him, or his wallet. He didn’t want to be the butterfly that flapped its wings and caused an earthquake on the other side of the world. As he rounded the cape of good hope on a paddleboard he stressed about having packed his phone charger. When he Base jumped off El Capitan all he could think about was if he’d renewed his car insurance, because it was sat on the road outside his house, that would be illegal if it was uninsured. Then what if someone hit it and caused a crash? It shouldn’t have been there at all! 
Then Youtube happened and he started uploading videos. Because why not? He got a following, and sponsors. Now his livelihood was linked to his daredevilry. If he stopped facing his fears now he couldn’t pay the mortgage on his bungalow (So bought because his knees weren’t what they were). All this led him to his current spot. Wobbling a top a ramp over the Grand Canyon whilst strapped to a jet engined canoe. Convinced that at that very moment his oven was heating up to a combustible degree and burning down his house. The fact of the matter was that he’d left home for this daredevilry a fortnight ago. If his oven was left on his house would have burnt down ages ago and he’d have heard about it by now. But that couldn’t arrest the thought that the oven would randomly just turn on, then cause a fire. That fire would spread, and he’d left an empty container of jet fuel in the shed. If that ignited it was bye bye neighbourhood. Think of the children. When had he last cleared the oven? The whole thing was a mess of crispy food based kindling. Oh why hadn’t he pulled the plug from the wall instead of just switching it off?

His earpiece cracked with his crew chief telling him he had one minute till it was go time. His crew chief's livelihood depended on Stephen as well as his own. More anxiety. Stephen tried to focus on the job in hand. He stared down the ramp. Would this be the stunt that finally cured his anxiety? This felt like Quantum Leap. Would this leap be the leap home? 

He looked over to the helicopter that was filming him. Although it was against the laws of physics he wondered if he’d leave the ramp at such an angle that he’d go directly through the rotor blades. Chopped up like bacon at the charcuterie counter. His heart was racing now. Stephen frequently raged at his overactive amygdala, the brains fight or flight response centre, But really wasn’t it just doing it job right now since he was facing danger right now? And he had made a career out of antagonising it whilst he was trying to tame it. 
“Go go go” 
His crew chief yelled in his ear. Alright, screw the oven. I may well be pate imminently anyway. Stephen pulled the lever. There was a creak and the canoe started moving. Gravity got it going until Stephen fully pushed the lever controlling the jet engine and the speed increased exponentially. Stephen grabbed the hand rail and tried to still his shaking body lest it wobbled the whole contraption off the side of the ramp. It felt like he was heading downhill for a very long time then the ramp flick up and Stephen was off the end and soaring high over the Grand Canyon. The homebrew wings seemed to be working, or at least not hindering things overly. The jet was providing enough thrust to reach the required elevation. As per the calculations at the halfway point Stephen shut off the jet and suddenly all he could hear from the roaring of the wind as he reached the highest point of his trajectory. Stephen looked right and left. The Grand Canyon stretched off into the distance. It was breathtaking, and Stephen was the first person in human history to see the Grand Canyon from this angle from a jet powered canoe. He felt serene for the first time in a long time. Seconds later it was over and he was heading for the landing. All looked good as the landing ramp loomed up at him. Straight on. Keep still. Stephen had very little actual control over the canoe. He was really not much more than a bag of potatoes in a crash helmet. But he could keep still. 

Thump. Wheels down. He’d made it. The landing was a bit heavy though and the canoe bounced up into the air. As it landed again one of the wheels snapped off. The canoe violently lurched to the side sending Stephen crashing into the plastic side. As this happened one of the wings connected with the ramp and separated from the craft. This sent the canoe loopy. As Stephen's weight flopped to one side it caused the canoe to overturn at one hundred miles an hour. Stephen's head came within an inch of the ramp as the thing did a 360 roll. The canoe was upright but facing backwards as it left the ramp and roared through the slowdown lane and speared into the hay bales at the end. Stephen was somewhat disoriented by the landing and to him this felt like: Thump, thump, thump, thump, ew I’ve got a mouthful of hay. Which frankly was an occupational hazard of his profession. 

Then the first aid team were on him, heaving hay bales off  and lifting him aloft. He was wobbly but uninjured. He raised a fist in the air and the crowd cheered him. He had done it. The first person to cross the Grand Canyon in a jet powered canoe. He had broken a world record, and survived. But did he leave the oven on though? God. Enough was really enough. He should probably try medication.