Well, right there was your problem...the concrete.
We hick kids didn’t have concrete to ride on so the rides usually started up in gramma’s back yard, went down the savage hill over the jump positioned at the narrow barbwire strewn gate, into the pasture and ended in the [hopefully empty] vernal pond.
And then you had to get up and outrun the enraged cows.
[it was just the same in winter, but with sleds and the pond was frozen over, hopefully enough to keep you from crashing through]
:)
Well, I think I can say from experience that falling off an Evel Knievel ramp and hitting your head on concrete is a lot more bone damaging than landing in cow dung.