The Piercing Crash
The Piercing Crash
Have you ever crashed on your bike, either because you weren’t paying attention or not being observant? Last year, I crashed my speeding bike into my dad’s car. The incident happened on a Sunday in the daytime. The sky was a dreary, gray color. It was one of those days when looking at the sky would make you sleepy. I was inside my house in the living room lying around. My mom came in the room, gave me an angry look, and declared, “Get off the couch and do something productive!” I didn’t budge, so my mom walked up to where I was lying down, put her mouth close to my ear, and whispered, “You can’t lay around all day, you need to get some fresh air. ”
“Okay, okay,” I muttered. I got up, and not wanting to make my mom angry, I shuffled through the door of the garage.
I tramped down the stairs of my obscure garage. Putting on my white and blue Reebok shoes, I started wondering about what to do outside. I got bored thinking, so I grabbed the dusty rug off of the chilly garage floor, and I shook it until dust was flying everywhere. The rug must have smacked my former bike, because it fell to the ground. I suddenly got an epiphany of what to do instead of lying around. I could just ride my bike. I opened my sliding garage door took a seat on my bike, and zoomed down my steep driveway. Suddenly, I smelt the nauseating stench of dog excrement. A jogger was jogging down the sidewalk, and he must have smelt the same odor, because he queried, “ Do you smell that?”
“Unfortunately, I do,” I answered back. I turned left on my bike, which led me to the left side of my street. I started pedaling harder, and I noticed that the bike was diminutive for me. Because of this I could go much faster on my bike. I increased my speed even more, and I felt the wind breezing on my face, and I heard it rushing past my ears. Suddenly, I perceived a minute bike not too far away from where I was. I applied the brakes, but they weren’t working. I veered my bike away from the miniature bike, and I turned it in the direction of my house. “ I can’t ride my bike around without brakes,” I thought. I accelerated down a steep road and swerved my bike to face my garage. While I was riding toward it, I observed my dad’s black Toyota parked on my driveway. Right when I was riding up the driveway, I smelt the same horrendous stench of dog excrement. I shifted my eyes to see where the stink was coming from. At that moment, I realized that the front of my bike was about a foot away from the right side of my dad’s car, and I was riding my bike at a speed of fifteen miles per hour. I tried my best to change the direction of my bike. “Too late,” I mumbled.
Crash! My left hand had jammed into the Toyota’s rearview mirror. I was lying on the concrete facing the sky, and my hand was bleeding profusely. There were glittering pieces of glass scattered all over the area where I fell down. The part that holds the rearview mirror might have ripped off from the car, because I saw it on the driveway. My neighbors must have witnessed the incident, because they inquired, “Are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” I replied. I tried to pick up my bike, but I couldn’t because my left hand was paralyzed. I left my bike outside, and sauntered into my garage. From there, I strode up the stairs and entered my house. My mom must have heard me come in because she solidly stated, “If you’re coming in you better not lie around.”
I proclaimed, “Mom, I shattered Dad’s rearview mirror with my left hand on my bike’s handlebar.”
“Oh no! Are you okay?” she bellowed as she walked to where I was standing. Then she noticed my hand. She asked, “Can I see your hand?” I showed it to her. There was a deep incision in it. My mom quickly grabbed her first aid kit, and grasped the antibacterial wipes, a long bandage, and an Ace wrap. Then she cleaned my hand with the antibacterial wipes, and wrapped it with the long bandage and the Ace wrap. I didn’t really feel any pain throughout the process of getting cut, because whenever I bleed a lot I only feel an itch. After my mom fixed my hand, she declared, “You can lie down for a while.” Just then my dad came in, and by the look on his face I could tell he had overheard the conversation between my mom and me. He uttered, “Arooj, you broke the rearview mirror on my car, but you did it accidentally and your hand got injured so I won’t punish you.
“Sorry about your mirror, Dad,” I responded.
My hand took two weeks to heal. I learned to never let my attention shift from one thing to another. I realized that this lesson could be used in everyday life, and for much larger situations. For example, if I was taking an important test, and I let my attention shift to think about what I would eat for dinner, I would probably do poorly on the test. I also learned to be more observant. If I had checked my bike before I used it, I would have discovered that there were no brakes and I would have never crashed. Now, I am more observant, and I have a lesser tendency to let my attention shift from one thing to another. Whenever I feel like not being observant, or not paying full attention to my main objective, I think of the piercing crash.
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