While sitting the other day thinking about what to blog about this one story from my past kept popping into my mind, so I feel that I should share it with you. I don’t remember how old I was but I think I was 11 or 12 years old at the time I could have been younger.
My Aunt Vicki, and my cousins Josh, Julie, and Jacob were all living in Mt. Carmel, IL and we went to visit. I can remember growing up and riding there. Those little road trips that were great spending time with family. The roads were hilly and if you weren’t paying attention it was like riding a roller coaster, you know the feeling where it feels like your stomach is in your throat. When I got older I pretty much lived with them during the summers, but this particular time I was with my mom and my sister and we went to visit.
When we got there everyone was outside and Josh had gotten a mini motorcycle, if I was 11 that would make Josh 10. He was riding that thing around and it looked like fun. He would ride down this ally then turn around and go back the other way. He was doing this over and over again I was jealous. Not only did I want to ride I wanted one of my own.
Finally he came down and stopped and my aunt was like Adam do you want to ride. I can’t remember if I said yes or just jumped on the thing. I was going to be awesome at this. I was going to go down turn around and come back like I had been doing this for years, I was going to look like a pro.
They give me a little instruction, twist the left hand grip that is the gas, here are your brakes, don’t worry about shifting. I was set I knew it all don’t tell me anymore I am ready just let go of the back of this thing and I will show you how it is done.
They let go, I twist the throttle and take off. All the other kids are chasing just like a scene from a movie I had just one the big race and everyone was congratulating me. I ride down the alley and start to turn around. I grab the brake the bike starts to slow, I turn the handle bars the bike begins to turn. Out of nowhere I ram the mini motorcycle into this HUGE blue wall of a warehouse. I swear this building jump in front of me. This building was out to get me.
I am embarrassed all the adults run down to make sure I am ok, nothing was hurt but my pride. They help me off of the bike and walk me back down to the house. While my uncle at the time pushing the motorcycle back to the house as well.
As soon as the adults finally realize that I am OK they start asking me what happened, why I ran the bike into a building. I don’t know how it happened, maybe I just wasn’t experienced enough. I know for the longest time, even when I was a kid, I would always say “the bike was too small”, it wasn’t I just didn’t know how to ride it.
Luckily in the making of this story no one was hurt, the motorcycle didn’t get hurt, nor did the building. Looking back at this time I now realize that I never saw that bike again after that day, I will have to ask my cousin about it. I know what he will say his first response will be something like why did you drive it into a building. Huh I wonder what my answer will be this time!