When I was about 10 years old, some of the neighborhood boys had set up a bike ramp in the street that they were taking turns jumping, competing to see who could jump the highest and furthest. To prove I was not a sissy girl, I decided to jump, too. On my little girl bike, complete with banana seat, plastic streamers on the handlebars, basket in front with the plastic flowers. Mind you, this was when bike helmets were unheard of.
Grimly determined, I started from way down the street, pedaling furiously for maximum velocity. I just knew I would fly higher and further than any of those boys. Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes to the clear blue sky and a circle of faces peering down at me. One of the boys said, “Hey, that was pretty cool. But you’re supposed to pull your front wheel up, not just ride over it, dope.”
I still have the scars, but count myself lucky that I didn’t bash in my damn fool head. My bike, sadly, did not survive.
tmwster, that sounds like something I did at around the same age. I was riding bikes in front of my house with a boy from down the street. He stopped his bike by catching the front wheel between his feet, and I thought that was mega-cool and I wanted to do it too. Unfortunately, I was wearing my oh-so-cute pointy-toed boots, while he’d been wearing sneakers. The toes of the boots got caught in the spokes, the bike stopped, and I went flying, clipping my two front teeth on the handlebars on my way over them. I broke one, and cracked the other; thankfully, our family dentist was able to glue the broken tooth back together, and it worked fine for another, oh, 6 years? Which is another story, and one that I am actually not at fault in.
Sixth grade: Finish doing an incredible set of forms at my yellow belt testing (TKD). Get complimented by the head instructor. Trip over my own feet walking back to my seat, broken hand
Seventh grade: Sparring at TKD. Land an awesome jump kick on a brown belt (far higher than my rank at the time). Fail to land properly. Sprained both ankles and a concussion.
Last summer: Demonstrating a technique at TKD for a bunch of red belts (360 back kick). Have done the kick a hundred times. Fail to do it properly, fall, hit my head on the floor, another concussion.
Last October: TKD (again - notice a trend?) Trying to do an elbow break for the first time. Break the board, manage to punch myself in the face and get a very large splinter of wood embedded in my elbow. Knock myself out, but no concussion (amazingly.)
I’m almost on a first-name basis with a few local ER nurses at this point… :rolleyes:
I have a small scar on my top lip where I opened a car door into it while looking over my shoulder at the neighbours’ new au pair and also one on the top of my left foot where I tried to open a penknife by holding the blade and giving a good flick. It opened and flicked right out of my hand and into my foot.
Oh, I think some repressed memories just surfaced…
Y’know how on Bic lighters, there’s a warning label, and there’s something about ‘do NOT use this if it’s punctured and spitting explosive fluid all over’? Yeah. They MEAN it. (In case you were wondering, parents of a teenager WILL notice and ask questions if they notice that you kinda sorta set the garage on fire.)
Freshman year. Trying to cut something out in bio class using left-handed scissors, even though I’m not left handed (I was using my left hand). Scissors can, very easily, slice into your knuckle and kind of dangle there. It was one of those cuts where you can see all the way down to the bone and it slooooowly fills with lots and lots of blood…