It took longer than expected. We pictured it being done in 3 weeks max. 
                                                  ***
 "Goddamn Amazon," Duncan mumbled at the computer screen, "and no, I don't want express shipping." 
 This was just about an hourly occurance. One might say that Duncan isn't the fondest of online shopping, but there "seemed" to be no other way. As you can imagine, seeing that we both had finished up our first year of college, we were eager to do SOMETHING with our summer.
 "Duncan, you can just go to the hardware store and very easily get planks of wood," I encouraged, tired of hearing the frustration coming from the corner of the room where my computer is set up.
 "No," he said "there's less of a hassle this way."
 "How?!" I shouted, "There's very much a better way to build this than getting packages daily to my doorstep!"
 "Well, seeing that you know everything now, tell me, Grant; tell me what to do."
 "...The hardware store has wood, so we can start there." As the words came out of my mouth, I could just tell that Duncan was fed up with this already. "This will be an interesting couple weeks," I thought to myself.
                                                   ***
 I live in a log cabin at the top of a hill, with the back facing a fairly large lake at the bottom of the slope. This was finally the summer where we were able to do something involving the lake, and the excitement was building up inside of me.
 The fact that my parents didn't catch on to anything was the biggest surprise, unless two 19 year olds sitting in a basement every day for a good while was a regular occurance in their time. They would often sit on the back deck, overlooking the lake and surrounding hills in the distance, making a beautiful scene at sunset. 
 Seeing that the basement was directly under the deck, I was puzzled why they never paid us a visit. There were constantly sounds of drills, hammers, and the occassional cursing (usually coming from Duncan, who was not blessed with the skills of a craftsman). Also, the internal door to the basement was attatched to the kitchen, agruably the most traffic-heavy spot of my house. Besides the cursing, these aren't the sounds of "playing video games", which is what I believe they thought we did with all of our time.
 Everyday I would open the basement door, and stare down the hill picturing what would come about in a few very long weeks.
                                                   ***
 Duncan and I returned from the hardware store with 20 sheets of plywood, more 2x4's than I could count, and a bike that we found on the side of the road. I could already see it coming together.
 In two weeks, we had finished the ramp, polishing the plywood off with a plethora of colors spray painted on the end, though the half completed project had also come with many complementary arguments in the process.
 The next day, we went down to the lake to determine the best spot for the ramp. Considering that the mud would not be in our favor, we built a base for the ramp and put it in the mud, making a flat surface for it to rest on. 
 Another two weeks was gone.
 The next day it started to rain. It kept raining, for days. The cursing occurance was happening more often now. What were my parents even thinking now?
                                                   ***
 Eight muggy days later, we found ourselves wandering down to the lake only to discover that the base we put in the mud was nowhere to be found. Another two weeks were gone reconstructing the lost piece. 
 One morning, I walked aimlessly around my house confused until finding a note saying that my parents went into the city for a concert, and would be back the next day. I immediately called Duncan. This was our chance.
 The base we built was even better than the last one, lining up perfectly with the ramp, and giving much better support as well. The slope of the hill was perfect for the plywood to be resting on as the "runway" of sorts.
 The weather could not have been more on our side. Sunny all weekend, and clear nights. This was our chance.
 After putting the base in the ground, the ramp on the base, and stacking the plywood sheets up the hill, we were both exhausted, and agreed to call it a day. The next morning, I stumbled across my paintball gun that my parents had given me the previous Christmas. Man was Duncan in for a surprise.
                                                   ***
 "Hey," I looked at Duncan and said, "since you did most of the research and designing, you can be the first one to use it." I don't think I've ever seen a 19 year old be more excited than at that moment.
  As he carried the bike to the top of the ramp, I went inside to go get, to his knowledge, a camera, though I came out with a paintball gun hidden in the duffle-bag with it. 
 I went down to the end of the ramp, set up the camera, and was about to tell Duncan to go when my parents stepped out onto the back deck, excited to be home, yet a bit confused at what they saw. 
 Just as the words 'We're home!' left their mouths, Duncan started peddaling down the ramp profusely. While he was focused on the bike, I took the time to take out my paintball gun with a huge grin on my face.
 As he hit the bottom of the ramp, his eyes caught what I was holding, and he suddenly realized what was about to happen. All I could hear over the array of sounds coming from my back deck, mostly consisting of "WHAT IS GOING ON" was the pop of the paintball gun, and Duncan's distant voice shreiking "Fuuuuuuuuu-."
 Needless to say, there wasn't any more "playing video games" in the basement with Duncan ever again.