The warm breeze in my hair, the smell of barbeque in the air. Summertime is a child’s favorite two months and once it arrives, so does the fun, games and carelessness. I of all children back then knew what carelessness was and I never tried to fix it for the sake of myself or my family who warned me about it and its consequences. All I cared about was fun during summertime. Every summer meant going to my grandma’s house and seeing my childhood friends. During that time, my grandma lives about thirty minutes away and I knew the drive by heart. Go through the freeway, drive pass the old gas stations, go by the college where my mother went, and then finally the neighborhood where the fun awaited me. My heart would race when we drove up the driveway. Seeing the beautiful white house with the metal fence shielding the roses and peonies, and my big blue bicycle waiting for me to ride it. As soon as my mother left, my friends came and we rode out bicycles for hours until it was pitch black outside. Like most competitive kids, we decided to race. Going around the neighborhood at least ten miles an hour was never the safest thing to do and I was always being warned by my grandma, “Be careful to not get in a crash!” However, I never hear her, all I hears was the screaming and yelling of my friends and me. The faster I went the more of a rush I felt. A sudden yell caught my attention screaming that I have won the race. Filled with excitement and joy I looked back to hopefully see my friend’s faces filled with envy. Then I am laying down in the street, my back against the rocky gravel. My bloody leg with dirt on it, but while laying down I see the peach sunset and the thought through my mind that I have disobeyed my grandma after she warned me. When a kid, you only think of the bad when someone tells you what to do and never the good. However, the good is always for you. A scar on my right leg will always be a reminder of the unforgettable summer filled with fun, races and lessons learned.