Even though skating is my life, there are altogether too few hours in the day to practice my passion. This sad fact was brought into sharp focus on my most recent escapade to Maui, Hawaii, where I went to the top of a 10,000 foot volcano to test the world's first hand-operated in-line skate brakes. I couldn't go up and down that volcano enough times before the sun went down on me.

Legend has it that Prince Maui also felt that time was slipping by too fast. He decided to do something about it which would give the day a few more hours. The prince went to Mount Haleakala -- literally "house of the sun" -- and brought his lasso along with him. Upon reaching the steep summit of Haleakala, he threw that lasso right around the sun and stood his ground. By digging his heels in, he not only created the largest volcanic crater in the world, but he was also able to slow the sun down to its present speed.

Unlike Prince Maui,, I was driven up 38 miles of silken-smooth asphalt ribbon. The sun was blazing through the thin air of the summit as I began my descent. Rather than slowing the sun down, I slowed myself down by pulling on a brake cable.

The result was an endless downhill run -- 38 miles to be exact -- of sun-streaked, blood-curdling exhilaration. If it weren't for those brakes, I could have toasted myself on any one of the 48 switchbacks that brings the road to the bottom.

Each switch back is a hairpin turn which redirects the road nearly 180 degrees. When you hit that turn going just 5 or 10 miles-per-hour over the 15 mph posted speed limit, the centrifugal forces fighting to pull you out of that turn are enormous.

The road between the hairpins dropped at a grade sufficiently steep to accelerate me to at least 40 or 45 miles per hour (no matter how steep a road is, about 47 to 50 miles-per-hour is terminal velocity on skates unless you are drafting behind a vehicle, in which case 65 is easily attainable). That means it was absolutely vital to slow down by at least 20 to 25 miles-per-hour before coasting safely through every turn (I do my braking before the turn).

It is possible to descend this mountain and keep your speed in check by carving serious slalom turns. There are two main problems with this, however. First of all, it requires considerable skill to turn tightly enough to avoid a runaway situation -- which can lead to dire consequences. Secondly, it takes so much energy to slow down that within minutes my legs get fried to a crisp on the anaerobic skillet of overexertion. That's where the world's first hand-operated brakes came in handy.

John Lamphere created the LandFearNo braking system with just this volcano in mind. The beauty of the system is its simplicity and ease of operation. It's all just a pressing matter of two mechanical levers. The one lever is a hinged heel brake with an adjustable rubber stopper. The other lever is the one that activates the system. It's a brake lever in the palm of your hand, which when squeezed pulls a concealed cable (threaded through shirt, shorts, and pads) which forces the stopper down onto he ground.

My initial fear was that I was going to hit the brakes and find that my skates stopped while the rest of me went flying. You do have to lean backward to a certain extent when applying the brakes, and lean forward when releasing them, but inertia was never my enemy. The farther I sat back on my heels with a staggered stance, the harder I was able to apply the brakes without pitching forward. I could hit the brakes hard and send up a dramatic trailing plume of smoke. Never before has burning rubber been so much fun.

My friends and I are trying to find a name for this new form of downhilling. One possible suggestion is D.O.A. (Downhillers of America), but that may sound a little morbid, or even exclusionist. Any suggestions? Call 1-800-CAN STOP. Find out more about the brakes, too, or the multi-stage event that will be held in fall of 1997 with a descent of Haleakala as the centerpiece.

Although still in the United States, Hawaii is like nowhere else on the mainland. I was smitten by her exotic and rugged beauty. There I was, skating down through fields of sugar cane waving at me in the trade winds, in full view of an island-studded, white-capped ocean to the west, with tropical forests dripping down precipitous slopes to the east. Even though the sun was relentless while it was traversing across the sky, there still weren't enough hours in the day to enjoy the new sport of skating down a volcano.

It's time to call Prince Maui.