Written sometime during his Junior High years
This story is about me. The setting took place, on a Saturday in November, 1997.
My brother and I had decided to go on a motorcycle ride on my dad’s “Honda 250”. My brother wheeled the motorcycle out of the garage, climbed on, and started it up. I loved the sound of that 4-stoke engine. It had a muffled, powerful sound that reminded me of riding with my Grandpa up by Battle Creek Reservoir.
I pulled my purple helmet on, and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. With my hands gripped around his waist, my brother took off. We were headed for a windy dirt road.
We got to the highway by our house and crossed it. Then we rode down a paved road that crossed our church and my school and turned into a dirt road.
As we flew down our destination road, I was praying to God that he would keep us safe on our journey.
We got to our turning point, and turned around. “Do you want to go back, or take the side road?” my brother called at me over the loud noises coming from the engine of the bike.
“Let’s take the side road!” I called back to him.
“Ok!” He agreed, and we drove down the side road.
After a while, we decided that we had been gone long enough, so we turned around and went back.
That road just scared me to death because of all the sharp turns on it! But then, we finally got to the paved road again. “Man! It seemed like that road went forever! I’m glad we’re almost home!” My brother happily exclaimed, as he looked up towards my elementary school up on the hill. That’s when my brother slammed the brakes on, slid on some loose gravel on the road, and threw us up onto a black monster. Down we fell, my brother on his wrist, and me on my back. “Aaaaaaaaaa CRAP!” The words came out of my mouth like fire. “My knee!” I sat there holding it as pain filled my leg. I looked over at my brother trying to sit up. I stood and tried to walk, but more pain came, and I fell down again. “Go call an ambulance!” someone called.
We had crashed into a truck stopped at a stop sign. My brother had looked away from the road, and was driving on the left side, when he saw the black truck, put the brakes on, and slid into it, breaking his shinbone and slamming my knee into the truck. We were thrown up onto the hood of the truck, and fell off, my brother breaking his wrist landing.
“No! Don’t call the ambulance! We’re ok!” We plead.
“We have to be safe”, the man in the truck told us. The ambulance zoomed down the highway and pulled over to us. Immediately, they got us up and started checking us out.
“Is your knee ok?” A man asked me while he led me to the ambulance.
“I guess.” I replied, even though it hurt like heck.
“Your brother broke his wrist and leg, but he is going to be ok.” The man told me, as I shook from shock.
YES! Everything was ok! Except for the fact that my brother was riding illegally on the road. But other than that, we never gave up with our struggle to regain our health. After about 1 month, the swelling and hurting on my leg went down, and in 6 weeks, my brother’s bones healed. We were ok!
So the next time something goes wrong in your life, keep hoping for the best and be tolerant. Everything will be ok!