I felt free; I felt like every moment was something I could never let go. Stereotypes and all the goofy sayings are true. When the wind hits you, and you just feel being out in the open there’s nothing like it. I always envied motorcycle riders from a very young age. I knew I wanted one as soon as I first saw one. I mean what young kid doesn’t love the sound of a fast engine and being able to go fast. And when I tried it that first time, it was almost like no other mode of transportation existed.
I would ride every day to work, and everywhere else. I decided I didn’t need a car, or more importantly, I didn’t need the payment. I bought my first bike straight out when I could save enough money by 18. From that point, I was able to save enough money to step up, and buy my dream bike. Those first moments the speed, the rush it was all brand new again. One of the most common things I would do was go out and just ride with some friends, all fellow bikers who just liked to be out riding. This one night was different though. I should have known it was a sign when my friends didn’t want to ride on a beautiful day, I also shouldn’t have gone, but my bike was calling.
I remember the night better than anything; I was out on one of the busier roads in town. When I was riding it didn’t peak traffic hours, it was a just a casual ride, cars coming and going from their destination. On either side of this road are these set of strip mall like stores, and people always would go shopping after work. They all enter and exit onto this road, the very reason to be cautious. That’s what I should have been was cautious. As I’m enjoying riding, I look off to the left to see a sign at one of these stores, I should have, and I knew I shouldn’t have. As soon as I turned my head straight a car was pulling into the roadway, I was in the first lane far away from the exit, but he still came straight into my lane. I tried to brake, but my will skid and I lost control of the rear. BOOM was the last thing I remember. I faded in and out hearing, people talking, not able to move my head. Just everything hitting me at once, I don’t know what had happened, I don’t even know where I am.
When I woke up and had been told I had been in a motorcycle accident, they asked me what I remember. I answered them almost more confused than before they told me what had happened. “I don’t remember ever riding my bike.” I had to lay there, and have these series of events replayed for me, and it just felt like a crushing blow. With only one thing being the force of good at that moment. I was still alive. My entire hospital stay, was an emotion pit, my mother and my father sitting there next to me worried and almost heartbroken that I was nearly killed. I kept telling her over and over that Its ok because I am alive and I’m not paralyzed. I remember those days in that bed just trying to get better, then transitioning into physical therapy to heal what was broken and get back to normal.
When I finally went home, it was finally my chance to see what had happened to my bike and see the carnage of the risk that riding entails. I walked into my garage, and I saw this shell of a bike front section was almost gone. It was haunting, and I can still see it to this day. That was a blow to my mental state if there ever was one. It scared me, my mother’s emotion finally hit me, and I could finally understand the fear of almost not standing there looking at that bike when I could easily be paralyzed or dead. Everything was so hard, for a while I had to have my father scrap my bike I couldn’t look at it. I felt like I could never ride again, not because I physically couldn’t because I was more than capable I just mentally couldn’t. Every time I saw a person riding it was just pure fear that would run through my body. It took months for me to regain my love, because driving and just not adventuring finally got to me.
I knew it would be the Largest struggle in my life, but I had to get back to the person I was because if I didn’t, I would have never been the same again. Getting back on a bike, an older bike I had and started it up had my heart racing, I took small little rides throughout my neighborhood and farther and farther finally allowed me to regain who I was and what I loved. My riding is not the same anymore, I’m always expecting a crash or a dangerous situation but I’m always aware, and I hope everyone else to as everyone deserves to go home safely.
My story could have quickly ended up in a dark place; I’m lucky every day I can walk and talk and be able to breathe when so many people have been killed the same way I was injured. Not only was that car being careless and only caring about them, but I also didn’t pay attention. I hope anything that comes away from my story is that people are aware and are safe, always look always check. Anything can change in second, and a certain love in the world can end like that.