Hey, Kevin, sorry to hear your bike story (2 yrs later). Maybe you need to get back on that horse (bike) to just ride a few houses left and right of your driveway. Please, stay OFF the grass and watch for potholes! Love your books. Be safe!
I had a similar experience when I was about twelve years old. No electric bike, rather a JC Higgins Sears 26" full size bike. Kicked a construction lantern, lost my balance and fell on a grassy hill parallel to the street. Used my head to stop my slide on a set of concrete stairs. Split my head wide open. I was wearing a parka (Nebraska in the winter) but the hood was down. I got back up on my bike. Had to straighten out the front fender and the handlebars. I had been on my way to the grocery store for my mom. Small town. Little grocery. I walked into the store and a lady checking out took one look at me and passed out. I was a bloody mess. My friend's father was the butcher. He called my father. I pulled up my hood and rode home, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. My dad was on the phone when I came in. He pounded on the door asking me what was going on. i looked in the mirror . What a shock. I was afraid of my dad. I wouldn't open the door. He got so mad he put his fist through the door. I opened up then. When he saw my injury, He grabbed me so he could get a better look. He took me out to the car and said I would have to go to the doctor. There were no emergency rooms in the area. He asked me how it happened, and I had already concocted a story about some boys in a red '53 Ford running me off the street. Instead of rushing me to the doctor he took me to see the town's marshal, an old fellow who had been a sheriff in the late 1800's. Dad insisted he go out and arrest the varmints who ha perpetrated this heinous act upon his son. After filing his report Dad took me to the doctor. Forty-eight stitches were my reward. My dad passed away in 2014. I went back to Nebraska to see him one last time in 2013. He mentioned how happy he had been when I got my driver's license because I was an accident waiting to happen on a bike. This occurred in 1960. I told my dad that I had lied. He said he had a feeling about it. It was 54 years in the past. We had a good laugh about it. Dad passed away a year later.
By the way Kevin. Another great story. I thouroughly enjoyed it.
Some very good life lessons! Your words really resonate with me and I really enjoy reading your writing.
Hey, Kevin, sorry to hear your bike story (2 yrs later). Maybe you need to get back on that horse (bike) to just ride a few houses left and right of your driveway. Please, stay OFF the grass and watch for potholes! Love your books. Be safe!
I had a similar experience when I was about twelve years old. No electric bike, rather a JC Higgins Sears 26" full size bike. Kicked a construction lantern, lost my balance and fell on a grassy hill parallel to the street. Used my head to stop my slide on a set of concrete stairs. Split my head wide open. I was wearing a parka (Nebraska in the winter) but the hood was down. I got back up on my bike. Had to straighten out the front fender and the handlebars. I had been on my way to the grocery store for my mom. Small town. Little grocery. I walked into the store and a lady checking out took one look at me and passed out. I was a bloody mess. My friend's father was the butcher. He called my father. I pulled up my hood and rode home, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. My dad was on the phone when I came in. He pounded on the door asking me what was going on. i looked in the mirror . What a shock. I was afraid of my dad. I wouldn't open the door. He got so mad he put his fist through the door. I opened up then. When he saw my injury, He grabbed me so he could get a better look. He took me out to the car and said I would have to go to the doctor. There were no emergency rooms in the area. He asked me how it happened, and I had already concocted a story about some boys in a red '53 Ford running me off the street. Instead of rushing me to the doctor he took me to see the town's marshal, an old fellow who had been a sheriff in the late 1800's. Dad insisted he go out and arrest the varmints who ha perpetrated this heinous act upon his son. After filing his report Dad took me to the doctor. Forty-eight stitches were my reward. My dad passed away in 2014. I went back to Nebraska to see him one last time in 2013. He mentioned how happy he had been when I got my driver's license because I was an accident waiting to happen on a bike. This occurred in 1960. I told my dad that I had lied. He said he had a feeling about it. It was 54 years in the past. We had a good laugh about it. Dad passed away a year later.
By the way Kevin. Another great story. I thouroughly enjoyed it.