I guess I was around twelve years old, me and some of my buddies were riding our bikes around a catholic school playground, across the highway from where I grew up. I still can’t remember why the playground was filled with students and my buddies and I weren’t in school.
We were showing off, for there were a lot of girls watching, doing what we called “wipe-outs”; pedaling fast, braking hard which caused the back wheel to slide out to the right or left, depending on which way you turned the handlebars when braking.
I was speeding into the sandy asphalt and hit the brakes. My back wheel slid out to the right and hit an area with no sand. The rest happened in a split second. My back tire hit sand less asphalt and stuck, sending me and my bike tumbling. My head came down and my right eye hit the open end of my grip less handlebar.
Blood poured from my eye and I remember looking at all the horrified faces looking at me screaming in pain with my hand covering my eye. I walked my wrecked bike home.
For the next couple of weeks I sported a perfect circle of scab around my right black eye. I’m lucky I don’t wear an eye patch today. Arrrrgh!