Biographical Non-Fiction posted February 18, 2018


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A short story of a physical scar.

A Biking Incident

by Fabiha_N


About 3 years ago, my family resided in the pretty quiet community of Taradale. I was at least 11 years old when this incident occurred, and I still have a faint scar of it on my leg today.

Once we moved to a larger community in 2011, the only memory I have of Taradale is the beautiful lake that was surrounded by all of our neighbouring houses. The lake was huge, and there was a rocky pathway that went all the way around it, in which I rode my bike on most days.

Because of how rough the path was, I ended up ripping a hole into both the front and back tires, but it was still somewhat able to keep me riding. My dad eventually bought a new wheel to replace the front tire, though for some reason, he didn’t fix the back one! And so, my “new and improved” bike had two different wheels (a newly added black one on the front, and the plain white one on the back) that didn’t even work in sync.

Even with the old, damaged back wheel that still had a small hole in it, I was still able to enjoy riding my bike around the lake... to some degree. I mentioned earlier how the two wheels did not work together properly, so the front wheel always ended up stopping so suddenly and randomly that I would be caught by surprise.

Within the path around the lake, there is a small “loop” close to my house in which the sidewalk dipped down a bit. That was my favourite part of the entire ride, because it felt like I was riding down a mini slide while turning at the same time to complete the full circle. It was at that spot where I fell and got more than just a bruise or a small cut.

I was just entering the loop with my bike when the front wheel halted and the seat of the bike almost flipped over with me onboard. I dived over the handlebars and landed hard on my hands and knees. My ankle nearly twisted, but thank God it didn’t. Unfortunately, I got a deep gash just above my left knee.

I hobbled back inside my house and, like any kid who didn’t want to get in trouble for doing something stupid, I tried to hide the injury from my parents. Of course, my mom was the first one to find out about it, because all moms just know their children so well.

We probably didn’t have any bandages at the time, so my mom ripped out a bunch of squares of toilet paper and simply tied it in a firm knot around my knee. Obviously, I couldn’t walk a whole lot for a couple days because of the pain, but it healed eventually. I also remember that I couldn’t fully straighten out my leg for a while, and that the makeshift toilet paper dressing was really difficult to remove once the scar dried off.

There were many other occasions where the same thing happened with my bicycle, but this was the first real injury. I definitely learned my lesson from this event, which was to never ride that dysfunctional bike again.
  
 


Stories about scars contest entry


I think that same bicycle is actually still sitting in our garage today, LOL! I definitely miss that neighbourhood.
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