Stories of Mobility Injuries
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once, when i was about 10, and had only been a power wheelchair user for about two years, i attempted, without much thought, to drive up the bank from our driveway into our yard. i toppled over backward, my handlebars getting planted into the gravel and my feet pointing at the cloudless sky. my two visiting cousins had never seen such a thing and simply stared, stunned, instead of getting one of our fathers to come help. for me, the worst part of the story, given that i made this attempt at the END of the driveway, was that i kept envisioning someone making the curve into our driveway, not seeing me, and smashing my head like a pumpkin with their right, front tire.
- the Weasel
In High school I was riding my bike with my friend Roland. We were down by the Holland light house. Something began clicking in my front tire. When something is broken you hit it or kick it and that fixes it. I kicked the tire. My foot got caught in the spokes and hit the bar that holds the tire. The wheel stopped suddenly and I flew over the handel bars. I craked a bone in my arm making me unable to drive my stick shift car for 6 weeks. TORTURE for a 17 year old.
little kids like to ride bikes. I was a little kid once and I liked to ride bikes. Little kids do not like to tie shoes. See where this is going? Speeding towards home on my yellow, banana-seat demon bike, I felt pressure on my shoes. looking down i noticed my feet were tied to my pedals. my frantic discovery soon dissipated as I began to accept my fate. with my bike finally at it's inevitable stand-still. I fell over sideways and hurt my arm. probably. but it was more the helplessness of it that scarred me for life.
There was once a little bundle of fast twitch muscle fiber named Tim. Tim wasn't very bright, but he was very fast. We were playing ultimate frisbee on a soccer field when he made a break for his endzone. I was on the other end of the field when I heard the sickly sound of bone and flesh against the metal goalpost of the soccer field. Looking back over his shoulder for the promising frisbee, he had run right into the pole. He jumped right back up and assured us all that he was okay. Tim wasn't very quick, but he was very fast.
Last year, around this time, I was westbound to the Valley via O'Brien Road on my beloved Specialized Sirrus hybrid (a bike) when a midnight blue Jeep Cherokee appeared behind me quite suddenly. Reluctantly I moved as near the shoulder of the road as I could (only loose gravel there) without endangering my body or bike, and waited for the SUV to pass.
At this same moment a red Sentra appeared on the horizon, bearing down upon us in its eastbound lane.
I found myself in an all-too-familiar, harrowing situation, as this is a particularly narrow stretch of O'Brien (as the road passes over a small stream and deep ravine.) Based upon my experience, it is an inexplicable truth that
drivers (especially those of large or expensive vehicles) invariably manage to locate either their gas pedal or their horn more quickly than their brakes.
Rather than brake briefly and allow the Sentra to pass in the opposite lane, the driver of the Cherokee sped up and crossed paths with the oncoming car at precisely the point in the road where the adjacent ravine is the closest and most treacherous.
With no shoulder and thus no space to move over further I was forced to kick out with my foot (in order to prevent my leg from being crushed against the truck)and hurtled headlong into the tall grass and trees.
In an instant I narrowly averted slamming face first into a maple and instead took the brunt of the impact against my right leg, throwing the bike forward and spinning me onto the earth.
It was 7:34am as I curled into a fetal position and thought: "What a stupid way to break your leg."
I was really sweaty. I lost control over my eyes and walked into a two foot post, flipped over, threw the disc golf disks that were in my hands into the air and landed on my back. Covered in dirt I laughed at myself and how the day before I boasted about how i had'nt fell in a really long time.
Jennifer Dunbar goes to Skater's Island in Rhode Island
I went to Connecticut a few years back with my other half and we took a side trip to a skatepark called Skater's Island. I was used to dropping in on half pipes and doing kickturns to get back and forth but that was the extent of my ability. I thought dropping in on a wedge (shaped like a cheese wedge) would be similar to dropping in on a half pipe (a concave orange cut in half) well, it wasn't. I smacked my face into the cement in seconds and got a black eye to show for it. That wasn't the worst part though, as we continued on our vacation stopping at mom and pop resturaunts I had the experience more than once where my beau went to the bathroom and the waitress would come up to and say "you know you don't have to stay with him sweetie". I am not sure they believed me when I explained the source of my injury.
Hilly Bike Wreck/Broken Arm
e town didn't have much money for roads so we had a major chuckhole problem. One early spring day I was headed down to the downtown part of town and taking the huge 2 block hill from our house I hit a chuck hole dead on. I'm not sure exactly what it was that flipped the bike, but before I knew it I was travelling down the road face down- skidding on my handle bars and front wheel with my face almost skidding on the pavement.When i came to a halt, I realized that my arm had been between the handle bars and the road. I had road rash on the back of my hand and just above my wrist my arm was irregularly bent. I walked home it pain, woke my dad from a Saturday nap and asked him to take me to the hospital. My arm was broken. I recall having a little scratch on the end of my nose.
Paul
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this is a test story. I am really tired of writing on theis story