Nice one LD. I regularly used to exceed the max recommended speed of my trailgators. Cries of faster as we went downhill were an instruction of the need for speed.
My ex used to bring her young daughter up to visit me when I was a student in Manchester.
Step-sprogette was just starting to say the odd word around the time of one visit. She was getting very irritable before bedtime so I offered to take her out for a stroll round scenic Manchester city centre in her buggy. Exciting, huh?
It didn't seem to be helping much. Lots of tears and tantrums. We'd got up to the far end of Deansgate when I decided that I'd had enough. I'd get us back to my flat ASAP and hand over said truculent child to her ma to comfort.
So, I started jogging back with the buggy. The crying suddenly stopped. Ah ah - she was definitely enjoying herself now. I accelerated. Little whoops of excitement!
I imagined that I was a Formula 1 driver and the buggy, the F1 car. I ran along making engine noises, revs dropping back for imaginary gear changes and I ran round bends making tyre-screeching sounds and cornering the buggy on two wheels.
Step-sprogette wasn't only the only one enjoying herself. I was getting an unexpected evening run in and couples out strolling in the evening sunshine thought it was really cute, a small wide-eyed child piloted at speed by a big perspiring student!
I started to tire after a couple of miles and slowed to a walk. Two small hands clapped together repeatedly and a forceful little voice from the depths of the buggy called out
"'gain, 'gain!" (Again, again!) I gulped in a couple of lungfuls of air and set off at a run once more.
We criss-crossed the city centre for an hour and finally she fell asleep. I hobbled back to my flat where my g/f was anxiously waiting at the door.
"Where have you been, you've been out for ages, and what on Earth have you been doing - the sweat is pouring off you!"
"Er, Team Col has just won the Manchester Grand Prix!" 
