Saturday, February 21, 2009
Bob, the kids and I went for a long bike ride today. The sunshine is such a happy respite! While I was warning my kids to stay in a single file line while in the bike lane on our busy streets, I told them to be sure not to follow too closely. They didn't want to rub tires. It triggered my memory and so I share with you today a few dangerous scrapes Bryan and I got into as kids on our bicycles.
I can't remember what his bike looked like. But I know mine was lime green with a big tan seat and a white basket with fake Gerber daisies on it. One time, we were riding together down at Calvin Christian School's parking lot. They had some construction going on so there was gravel strewn on the pavement. Bryan was racing around being a daredevil. I think there were other kids to impress. He took a turn too sharply. His pedal scraped the concrete and he lost control. He slid on his side like Evil Knievel and came to a stop in the middle of the gravel. When I finally got to him, he was trying real hard not to cry in front of the other kids. I left him there and raced back to our home to get our parents. They came and drove him home.
When daddy assessed the damage, he discovered that Bryan's entire thigh was covered by a medium pizza sized "strawberry" complete with gravel that needed to be plucked out bit by bit. UGLY. But it gets worse. He couldn't wear anything that touched the oozing wound. If he HAD to go out in public, at least there were OP shorts--remember those surfer shorts--extra short? He wore long tube socks up to his knees and Vans shoes to complete the look.
My grandpa put this horse healing salve on his sore--it was bright purple and it stunk. It stained everything it touched. I guess this was before neosporin? I have no idea. He walked around in his undies for most of the month until it healed. It was summer vacation so at least he had that going for him. That horse ointment worked--it didn't even scar. I sorta feel bad that Bryan is getting all his stories told without being here to object, "Hey, that's not right. Don't tell THAT one!" But there has to be some fun in all this suffering :0
Another time, we were in Jr. High school together. We rode our bikes to Grant Middle School. It was quite a ride--probably 5 miles one way. Well, I said Bryan and I were good friends. But I did not specify WHEN we became close. We were not so much at 12 and 13. So we were riding our bikes to school and I was pleading with him to stop tailing me, stop riding so close. My sweet younger brother did not listen and rubbed tires with me. I will never know if it was intentional or an accident. It was my turn to experience the nasty wounds complete with gravel removal. But the little nice lady whose house I crashed in front of drove me to the school office where they phoned my mom. Let's just say that Bryan's backside hurt in a different spot after my dad found out what he had done.
When I told Kate the story today, she said, "So THAT'S why you always tell us not to rub tires and not tail." Now you know.
Posted by Reilly Fitzpatrick at 9:30 PM