When I was little and on my tricycle, the neighbor lady backed up into me. My mom watched it all from the kitchen window. Obviously, not too much damage was done.
When I was about twelve, I had ridden my bike to D&H Drugstore. I remember I bought these yellow barrettes for my hair. On my way back, I went to make left hand turn into my neighborhood. As I turned, a car came over the hill, hit me,and knocked me off my bike. Again, I was fine, but for a bruised thigh and some serious fright. I'm sure the man that hit me was more shook up than I was.
I had plenty of falls and scrapes and cuts, but the worst thing that happened was when I was six. Back then, bikes had fenders. I was sitting on the fender and my foot got caught in the bicycle spoke. I don't remember who was driving the bike,and luckily, I don't remember the pain. But, I do remember exactly where it happened, and Mr. Rahn coming out and carrying me back to my house.
I remember the smell of the medicine they put on my ankle.
I remember sitting in the doctor's office wondering if I was in trouble. (always a guilt complex)
I remember missing three weeks of first grade. (Bonus!)
And, even if I wanted to forget, I have a lovely reminder on the inside of my ankle. It's actually a burn from the rubber of the tire. It is still sensitive to touch, and I'm sure that ankle is weaker than the right one. I could have been a great model if not for that scar. And the fact that I'm 5'3. Oh, and maybe the fluffiness is holding me back.....
So, for me to go out and ride a bike again feels like a huge accomplishment. Granted, I'm not riding on roads, going to the drugstore, or riding double on someone else's bike. And, I'm probably too old for yellow barrettes anyway.
But, oh, I hope I don't find out how it feels to fall at forty-nine.