In my youth, I had a variety of exciting, and sometimes even dangerous, accidents. Some were so terrible that I’m grateful to be on the planet to remember and share them. For example, when I was just a child of 8 or so, my bicycle brakes went out. On a hill. Toward a busy highway. I managed to fly down the hill, across the road and up an incline to railroad tracks without hitting anything. When my front tire hit the railroad track, the bike stopped but my body continued onward, landing painfully in a sticker bush. (I learned later it was a nest of thistles). I was stinging all over my legs and other parts as well, but lived to tell about the adventure.
In my twenties, I was driving down the road when a tire appeared out of nowhere in front of me, rolling rapidly toward my car’s grill. I could swerve to the right (and go into the Ohio River), or swerve to the left (hitting the oncoming car). I braked, and the tire hit my grill, bounced up and hit my windshield, and then flew over my car to roll to a stop many yards later.
I ended up with a bruised knee, a stiff neck, and a black eye, as my head had hit the rear view mirror. It was perilous and I nursed those injuries throughout the week to get sympathy, free food, and a lot of attention.
Many of my injuries have had a colorful story to accompany them. But I realized this year that I have finally reached that age where there is little excitement, not much color, and not a scrap of danger to incidents that give rise to my injuries.
For example, I broke my toe last summer. I’ve broken toes before, of course – once when a large and heavy book was tossed on my foot and once when I was riding a bike. Exciting and funny stories, those were. What was I doing this year? Walking.
Yep, I was walking across a flat, even floor and rammed my foot into a wooden crate, breaking the little toe. It hurt like crazy and was not the slightest bit interesting to tell people.
Later this summer, I wrenched my back. Nothing that a lot of ibuprofen and a few nights in the hot tub didn’t cure. But was there a great adventure to share? Sadly, no. What happened you ask? Well, I sat down wrong.
I. Sat. Down. Wrong.
There’s just no way to make that a rousing tale.
And finally there was this past Monday. I sliced my arm up but good. It bled on and off for a couple days, but since it was on my forearm, there just wasn’t enough flesh to worry about going to get a stitch. I just put antibiotic cream and bandaids on it and tried not to lean on tables and desks with that arm.
Was there an exciting and slightly dangerous account of this? You decide: I reached into the refrigerator for Parmesean cheese, scraping my arm on the edge of the shelf.
Not exactly Indiana Jones, huh?
Guess I’ve reached the time in my life when “how did that happen?” will require me to make something up. At least that’s something I do well!
as usual cannot beat some of those stories as my tales are way to simple =
many broken limbs and wrists etc = all from being slightly awkward as a kid
too many slips and falls to mention – so many close calls while driving so many
miles with jobs I have had – and some close calls I have had that I am very fortunate
were only that ! And some too recent to be proud of – often my laxness inattention –
need to get my OCD working harder than other factors!!
Keep up the great posts – hoping to hear from Bets again!!
How nice you are, John! I finally got back to Susie’s Snippits. I really, really enjoy them! I also love your comments!
Susie, all I can say about those first two injuries is you definitely had angels around you! God was just not ready for young Susie to come Home! I remember taking my youngest sister, who was around five years old, upon a steep hill with my brother’s bicycle. I was almost 12 years old. I managed to get her upon the cross bar of the bicycle. Now at the bottom of the hill is a bridge over a creek. Below are huge rocks. We started off. The farther the faster! I could not hold the bike steady because of the weight of my sister. Nearing the bottom of the hill I knew we were going to crash into the creek below. I managed to see all the way across that bridge we were riding on the very edge of the boards. There was no way we should have made it successfully. I never did that again!
The other bike incident was when I was in my seventies. We had ridden many bike trails, many miles, in Ohio. On this trip, it had rained several inches the night before. The river had gone up and crossed the trail. It had receded, but left a thin film of mud. Not knowing it was mud, when I hit it, my bicycle skidded and slammed me smack dab into the hard pavement. It felt like my spine had jerked lose from my body. I was in agonizing pain! After 20 years of biking, we decided to sell our bicycles and take up boxing. 😁
Maybe you remember the whiteout in the 1970’s, and the multi-car pile up near the Tipp City exit. We were involved in that. We were close to the exit, near the front of the vehicles. When the whiteout happened, we hit a car in front of us and it threw us off the highway. It felt like my chest exploded! The crashes just kept coming. It was a horrible sound. Then a big explosion and fire! We were blessed beyond belief. Several people lost their lives.
Yes, my husband broke his little toe vacuuming the interior of the car. Caught his little toe in the door frame and fell inside the car. Snapped! Lots of laughs. Should have been wearing shoes! A friend of ours broke his toe just trying to put on his socks! Lots of laughs – no sympathy. Should have been taking more calcium!
Yes, Sus, you will be asking yourself a lot of “How did that happen,” before it’s over. I can bump by head just getting something off the bottom shelf of the fridge. I can stub my toe on a carpeted floor. I can bump into an open oven door and leave a bleeding wound. I think I’m ready to trade in those less interesting and rousing tales for antibiotic cream and band-aids!
You keep writing, Susie. You’re all the entertainment I need!