My parents made me go to church every week until I was about eleven or twelve. The Sunday finally came, after a successful dramatic protest, that I could stay home alone for the first time.
We lived on a quarter or a half acre out in country. I would ride our Honda 70 minibike around the house and yard, weaving between the trees and outbuildings.
That day I must have done laps for an hour. I specifically remember asking myself, "Where is the clothesline?"... Referring to the heavy wire clothesline I had ducked under so many times before it damn near decapitated me.
I hit it neck first, but did not let go of the bike. It pulled me into this time-stopping wheelie,suspended by my head, with the high pitched hum of a small bike on full throttle. Then the wire finally broke from the pole, I landed flat on my back, the bike rolled away and I think it hit the house.
My parents found me on the ground as I had landed, just trying to breathe. The skin on my neck was was worn away, bloody, and I was quite bruised for some time.
I did not let go of the bike. A notable reaction that, looking back, I may have repeated in every possible way, in every facet of life.
*****************************************************************************
If you had told me when I was a kid, that I would grow up to be me, I would have forced emancipation hearings from myself.
But here we are.
******************************************************************************
I promise, this is a comedy.
We lived on a quarter or a half acre out in country. I would ride our Honda 70 minibike around the house and yard, weaving between the trees and outbuildings.
That day I must have done laps for an hour. I specifically remember asking myself, "Where is the clothesline?"... Referring to the heavy wire clothesline I had ducked under so many times before it damn near decapitated me.
I hit it neck first, but did not let go of the bike. It pulled me into this time-stopping wheelie,suspended by my head, with the high pitched hum of a small bike on full throttle. Then the wire finally broke from the pole, I landed flat on my back, the bike rolled away and I think it hit the house.
My parents found me on the ground as I had landed, just trying to breathe. The skin on my neck was was worn away, bloody, and I was quite bruised for some time.
I did not let go of the bike. A notable reaction that, looking back, I may have repeated in every possible way, in every facet of life.
*****************************************************************************
If you had told me when I was a kid, that I would grow up to be me, I would have forced emancipation hearings from myself.
But here we are.
******************************************************************************
I promise, this is a comedy.
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