Bungy jump, Kawarau Gorge, New Zealand.

I couldn't really drive past the Kawarau Bridge — the place where bungy jumping began when A.J. Hackett made his historic jump — and not take the leap into gorge myself, now could I?

What a rush! But I almost didn't jump.

You hear about a person's knees going weak and legs buckling. I'd never experienced that before. But as I inched out to the edge of the wee platform, my toes just over the edge, and stared down into the Kawarau Gorge from 150 feet above the river, that's exactly what happened.

My brain sent me an urgent message — "Jumping off this bridge is not the way you stay alive, you MORON!!!"

My new-found Kiwi journo friend Helen Tunnah — she and her parents were there to witness this dubious achievement — was no help either. She told me about the people who incurred torn ligaments and detached retinas from bungy jumping.

For a nanosecond, I thought, "I cannot do this."

I wasn't alone. A Japanese girl was up there with me. She tried to back out, but her "friends" insisted she do it. So she sat down on the platform closed her eyes, and rolled off, screaming all the way to the bottom.

I turned to the guy running the show — who looked like a body-stomping skinhead — and wondered aloud, "Did I actually pay to do this?"

He'd heard it all before. He simply began counting down: "5 - 4 . . ."

I figured he'd push me off if I didn't jump. Then I thought, "Hey, you paid for the video tape, give it your best shot. The bungy cord is NOT going to break."

". . . 3 - 2 - 1 . . ."

I launched myself into space and did a swan dive.

What a rush! It ended way too soon. I can see how skydivers get addicted to free falling. If it didn't cost so much — US$75 — I would have done it again.

It sure straightened out the crink in my back — and I think I'm about an inch taller than I was. I told the guy that I wanted to touch the water, but I stopped short by a foot or two.

The only thing sore the next day were my stomach muscles. As I bounced back up into the air, I kept trying to straighten up to orient myself and wave to Janis and Helen, who were recording the historic moment on film.

(She had been a little relunctant about me taking the leap of faith, but since the life insurance policy was up to date, she said, "Go for it." Besides, on her flight to New Zealand she met a man in his 60s who loves bungy jumping and was coming here specifically to do 13 jumps at different places around the country. I guess she figured if this guy could survive, I could too.)

Bungy jumping is billed as being even better than sex. Maybe a distant third. (Unless those who say it's better than sex have sexual encounters that last less than five seconds.)

The trudge back up the hill from the river was the toughest part of it.

We then went wine tasting — I needed the drink after leaping off that bridge.

           Cheers,
           Leapin' Larry