The Dusty Helmet

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It was the second to the last day of the fourth grade on a Thursday. I was ready to end the year and begin my following year at the top of the elementary food-chain as a fifth grader. The adventurous day awaited my friends and me, however; neither my friends nor I knew what the day had in store for us. No one knew that such a promising day would drastically morph into a horrific catastrophe.

This day was like any other ordinary day. My friends from my neighborhood and I met up in front of my house. As we planned for our daily events, I kept in mind that this was the second to last day of school—time to live it up. I quickly suggested that we would have a race to the pond a few streets down. Everyone agreed that a day at the pond would be the best way to spend our day. We all prepared our individual bikes for the most epic race that was about to occur. My mother cautioned me to wear my helmet and my elbow pads just in case I fall over, however; I ignored her wise advice and continued preparing for the race. There were eight of us and each of us had the goal to reach the pond first no matter what.

The race went underway and everyone went towards the same direction. There was really only one quick way of getting to the lake and it was through some alley ways in my neighborhood. Only I knew of these shortcuts and if I took the shortcut, I would easily win the race and claim the position as the best biker in the neighborhood. I wanted one of my friends from my home room to at least get second in the race so I made him stick with me. The group of racers approached the shortcut and I secretly made my way to the back of the pack of racers and my friend followed.

Each racer circled around the uphill cul-de-sac and made their way back down to continue down the road. However, I waited at the top of the cul-de-sac and prepared myself to make my way down the shortcut. I motioned my friend to follow as I sped down the cul-de-sac into a downhill alleyway that led straight to the pond. My bike felt like a motorcycle. I gained so much speed and I knew that it was the fastest that I had ever gone down that alleyway. As the downhill alleyway begun, I turned myself around on my bike to see if my friend followed me and when I turned around, a painful surprise awaited me: a white Dodge Durango. I slammed right into the white Durango and my bike and I flipped over the car. My warm flesh scrapped across the cool pavement and the pain spread to every inch of my body. My bike landed a foot away from me and luckily I had not broken any bones. The entire situation felt like a dream, better yet a nightmare. I instantly jumped to my feet and picked up my bike off the floor. The handle was bent up to the point where the bike was of no further use. The driver of the car rushed to my aid and was thankful that I was not seriously injured. A second later, my friends all came rushing down the alleyway after they heard the crash. My body ached with pain and my skin was scrapped at multiple spots on my body. The concrete was splattered with drops of blood. My friends continued their journey to the pond as I was driven to my house in the same Durango that I had run into.

When my parents found out the news, they almost had a heart attack. My mother’s first words were “I told you so.” I was lucky to not have any serious head injuries since I had no helmet on. I took at shower and my body experienced so much pain as the water struck my body. That night in my bed, I closed my eyes as the memory of the crash rushed through my head over and over again. I can still picture my entire world being flipped upside down literally as I collided into the car. The event will forever be imprinted into my memory because it was the first time I crashed into anything on my bike. From that day on, I always wore my elbow pads and my trustee helmet. Further more, I acknowledged my parent’s wisdom and advice and used it to become the person I am today. Without their help, I would be lost in this world. I learned to think before acting and I learned to never trust alleyways. The memory of my crash will never be forgotten and the scars will last me a lifetime.





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