I mentioned in the 50 Questions I’ve Never Been Asked tag that when I learnt to ride a bike I ended up in hospital, and I had a couple people reach out to me and said they’d like to know the whole story so I figured I’d have a little storytime… So, without further ado, sit back, relax and have a little read of my trauma…
I’d never really learnt how to ride a bike; I’d ridden tricycles but nothing of the 2 wheel variety, and so when my parents bought me my first “big girl bike” at 7 years old I was so excited. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were all set to go to the park… My dad built my bike (following the boxes instructions of course) and we headed off to the local park. But what about the stabilisers? You may be asking, well I was a brave child, and if I was gonna learn, I was gonna learn properly, without the stabilisers.
It all started off pleasantly, I was guided by my parents and slowly cycling along… Within no time I was able to balance for myself and ride down the little gravel path, free of help from anyone. I was a free, seven year old bird, who’d thrown all caution to the wind. The world was my oyster and I had conquered the metal beast that was my cute purple bike, I had all the knowledge in the world… except for the knowledge of how to break.
So there I was, enjoying my new found 2 wheeled freedom without a care in the world, and then, out of nowhere an even tinier child on a tricycle came out of nowhere, a few feet in front of me. Me, being the natural born hero that I am (obviously), was not going to hit the kid, and did the only thing I could to avoid her: swerve off the path to my right… right into a stone bench.
Next thing I know I’m on the floor, covered in blood, surrounded my family panicking above me. When I swerved off of that path, I crashed right into a stone bench, cut open my eyebrow on the side of it and therefore was left bleeding from my head. My mum was in tears, my dad was freaked out and before I knew it I was rushed in the back of our car and driven to hospital. By the end of the day I was left with a beautiful set of butterfly stitches, and a cool story to tell all my friends…
I was young and mostly oblivious to the whole thing, but looking back on it the whole situation must have been terrifying for my parents, and I can’t imagine going through that with a child. Nowadays it’s just a fun story to bring up when I need a “fun fact” or someone asks me why I have a scar on my eyebrow (yes, it’s still there and not going anywhere).
I guess, if we’re gonna be all deep and profound, you never know what’s coming in life: sometimes you’re the 7 year old bicycle hero and sometimes you’re the bench. (In all honesty, this story comes with no real message at all, but I felt like I should leave it with something, so enjoy this fake wisdom).
Hope you enjoyed the retelling of my childhood trauma, and feel free to leave the stories behind your scars or the first time you learnt how to ride a bike in the comments! Also, this is the first storytime post I’ve ever done, so leave your feedback as to whether you’d like more of these in the future.
Lots of love,