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I remember when I was a kid, my family was camping somewhere here in California when I learned a lesson that I never forgot or thought would help me. I was strolling up a rocky hill (if I remember right, to find a place to pee) when I came upon a rattlesnake. I was somewhere between 8 and 10 years old and when the rattler sat up and started shaking, I took off back down the hill. The problem was; the hill had rocks - sharp rocks - and gravity quickly outran my little legs. I ended up with two bloody knees, two bloody hands, and my father yelling at me to "never panic!". Here is the result (I will explain)... 
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