Sunday, May 14, 2006
Bike Story #2
My other memorable bike accident involved a lot more ouchiness. My sister and I were riding our bikes to the library. The little road we normally took had a bit of construction going on, and there was this large tube or hose laying across the entire road. My sister got to it first, got off her bike, lifted it over the tube, then got back on to continue riding. I, on the other hand, assessed this tube and decided I could roll right over it. I had a bigger bike, so it should be no problem, right?
Wrong. Maybe if it had been a mountain bike it would’ve made it. When I got to it, the ten-speed’s thin front wheel twisted sideways and stopped moving. My body, of course, kept on with the forward motion and I sailed right off the bike. I broke my fall with my left hand, saving the rest of me from any serious scrapes. But man, the heel of my left hand was torn up and bloody. I don’t remember if I cried or not because there was a lot of pain going on right then.
The construction workers saw what happened and I guess felt bad because two of them helped me up and walked me to the back of the truck. They had one of those water coolers strapped to the back with a spigot on it. One guy rinsed the dirt off my hand while the other went to fetch some band-aids. That water was cold. They had to put two or three bandages on before the wound was covered up. What a mess, but they were very nice. We walked our bikes back home afterwards.
To this day I can still see the dark spot where a large grain of sand was embedded for a long time while it was healing. But thanks to my cement bones, nothing was broken despite landing hand-first onto the pavement!
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