The stories and endless television series of traumatic emergency room visits can’t compare to the actual thing, especially when the story is through the eyes of an eleven year old. The event still lurks in my mind. It all happened so fast, yet it still replays slowly in my head today.
I have been quite the daredevil since a young age, starting out on a bicycle without training wheels at the age of two. I have loved biking my whole life and have never had a fear of anything that has two wheels and can go fast. My neighbor got a dirt bike for Christmas when I was six years old and let me ride it whenever I pleased. I remember jumping the low hills in his front yard and making ruts in the grass from the sharp turns I could pull off. My parents saw how much I loved riding that dirt bike, so they decided to get me the next best thing, a go-kart. I couldn’t quite perform the same tricks that I could on a dirt bike, but I sure would try. My favorite trick was getting that go-kart to get up on two wheels. I would have to push the pedal to the floor and get the go-kart up to speed before ripping the steering wheel to the left, causing the momentum to pick up the two left side wheels. Once the go-kart was in the air I had a feeling of excitement that also came with a slight fear of flipping, but in the end that fear just intensified the experience. A friend of mine had two go-karts that we would take off through the woods on. We would explore the woods for hours and find new ways to travel through them in order to get to our favorite spot, which was an open field somewhere in the middle of those woods. I was usually very careful with my friend’s go-kart, but one day I decided to try my most favorite trick. On my first few attempts of ripping the steering wheel to the left I had no luck, so I tried the opposite way. Once I jerked that steering wheel to the right the go-kart immediately went up on two wheels, but it went too far. As the go-kart was...
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