First of all, that’s not me. But I do have a story of courage to tell on myself. Why is there a picture of a tricycle when as I wrote previously that I do not like riding a bike? Stay tuned and keep reading.
I don’t like riding a bike but when I was about 9. I I decided to explore riding my little sisters tricycle instead. This was a time when we lived in Henderson, North Carolina in a parsonage beside one of the churches my dad pastored. (Yesterday would have been his 93rd birthday by the way.)
My sister is 6 years younger than I am (and yesterday was also her birthday but I won’t disclose ages here) so she would have been 3 with her first tricycle and maybe the only one she had. Behind the church and leading up to our house there was a gravel driveway with a slight incline coming in or (ha ha) decline going out. Can you see it coming?
I don’t recall being all that brave or adventurous but as I recall my childhood, I was as bold as brass tacks in so many ways and sassy too.
On this particular day it was summertime. It was quite warm in the south and I was wearing shorts and a short sleeve shirt. I don’t know where everyone was when I decided to sneak out and disobey my Mom. I had been told not to do what I was about to do, but never you mind as we say down south.
I quietly went out the back screen door, slipped down the concrete steps to do my bidding. My sisters tricycle was out in the backyard just beckoning me to come hither and go for a little joy ride.
Needless to say, at 9 I was too big to sit on the seat and pedal the thing so I did the next best thing. I stood on the back, grabbed the handlebars and used my right foot to get myself going. Yep on a gravel driveway, here I come!
I am not sure how far down the drive I got, but remember it was a ‘slight’ grade downward. I picked up speed too fast and whee was I having joy ride until….
I did a nose dive, literally over the handlebars and did a face plant eating gravel along the way. My nose, my chin, my forehead took the brunt of it. Then as I landed, my knees, elbows and hands took a pretty good hit too.
Hmmm, was it worth it? Looking back, yes just so I could tell this story. I made my way into the house leaving my sisters tricycle at the bottom of the hill, which didn’t take much of a hit. My Mom graciously took me to the bathroom and cleaned me up. To my amazement today, no scars except my bruised ego.
But no regrets here. I’ll have more courageous exploits for you in the future. This one just cracks me up every time I recall it. I’m sure my sister will read this and have a good chuckle too.
Until next time….