Technically speaking: you don't need me to skydive, but you do need me to skydive twice...!

Up a hill two children went, a mission on their mind, something heavy on their side. They fetched from a well and hurried down the hill. It swings by one handle, from hillside to shore, A farmer’s friend and seaside builder. What am I?

Fuelled by oil stored in me, Pilots might do a roll of me, To avoid a bullet shot out of me. People might play with monkeys released from me, Or drink far too much ale stored within me, And the next day feel that they'd scraped the bottom of me

Pin Pop Or rise with flame And a sandbag drop. Up wouldn't be Up without it

I'm brown, I'm white. I'm solid, liquid, and powder. Everyone needs me, not everyone wants me, and quite a few people actively avoid me, but many still crave me. All in all, everyone agrees I'm sweet.