I don't really remember why my parents had taken away my car. I think it was because I was skipping out on going to Seminary School but the point is that they did. I was allowed to drive my car to and from school but aside from that it had to stay home. This posed a problem to me because my best friend was a guy by the name of Bryce. According to Google maps Bryce lived 2.9 miles from my house which is at least 2.8 miles further than I was willing to walk.
One particular day Bryce came home with me to hang out right after school at my house so that we could evade the "to school and back" moratorium. After a couple hours we grew bored and decided we should go to his house. The car was out of the question and neither of us wanted to walk at all so we decided to ride a couple of my old bicycles to his house. I figured it would be easy because it is downhill the entire way. We agreed that this idea was at least as awesome as that time when Bryce put a sock on his sister's cat's head and then it fell down the stairs trying to get it off. That cat was a dick and totally deserved it.
We started riding and after a hundred yards or so Bryce insisted that we switch bikes because he doesn't like the one he's on. He was a good foot taller than me so I conceded to let him on the bigger bike. I had originally wanted it for myself because it was a better bike. Shame on me for being talked out of it.
As we rode down the longest, steepest stretch of road we started pedaling faster. Fast enough to nearly keep up with the cars on the 35 mph road. I started showing off to the cars passing us by doing wheelies off the curbs. In my mind I was much more than that though. I was really "it."
I was having a wonderful time being lost in my own imagination. That was when tragedy struck.
I clearly remember this moment. I truthfully felt like this split second had more than enough time for me to take a break, go make a sandwich, eat it, come back and STILL have to wait around for it to be over. I remember thinking something along the lines of "FML" and then I guess I must have decided that I was really really tired because the next thing I remember is waking up from a nap in the street. Bryce was standing over me saying something but I couldn't understand him. The pain flared. I remembered losing my tire so I correctly assumed he was asking if I was "OK." I totally wasn't but I thought if I said so it would make it real so I said "yeah........... I gotta pee." I really did. I had to pee like it was nobody's business. I was going to explode and die right then and there if I didn't go. Cars going by? People watching? Eff 'em, I had to go and I had to go NOW.
I leaned against a telephone pole and knelt because my legs weren't working well yet and went wild. I don't really remember anything else so the rest of this story is what Bryce has told me. He said I dismounted my bike "with a windmill" (a breakdance windmill) but then landed on my face and then proceeded to ask him what happened to me every 5-10 min for hours afterward. Bryce got bored of my questions.
After some drama with talking to my Mom we went to the hospital where it was announced I was fine. Just a concussion (obviously...)
LMAO.
ReplyDeletethis is genius.
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