It was the end of the summer before the second grade and Lisa and I were on our way home from Grandma Is’s house where we spent our summer days while mom was at work. We were riding our bikes and because I was only 7, I usually rode on the sidewalk.
I hollered to Lisa “Make way for a landing” and I steered myself toward a driveway on our block. Lisa must not have heard me because the next thing I remember was laying on the side of the road with my bike next to me.
At first, I didn’t know what had happened. Was I hurt? Nothing seemed to be in pain. But then I heard Lisa saying over and over “Just don’t look at it… Just don’t look at it…”
Don’t look at what? What could she be talking about? Then I looked at my foot and realized I had split open my heel. My foot was covered in blood. Oh my! Now I suddenly felt the pain! She was right – I shouldn’t have looked!
We were only a few houses away from home, but a nice neighbor lady drove us the rest of the way. From there, Mom took me to the doctor’s office and I had to have 6 stitches to close up my heel. I felt kind of special because I was the center of attention for a while.
When I started second grade, the teacher asked us what we had done that summer, and I shared the story about my heel. I even brought in the stitches for show and tell. She wasn’t impressed.
This was my first bike accident. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my last.