It was two summers ago; I was spending a week up north in Elk Rapids carefree and jubilous, completely oblivious to my upcoming fate. No, nothing terribly tragic occurred halfway through that week, but it was definitely a troublesome incident and struggle for everyone involved. None the less, the event that took place outside of White Birch, a lodge we stay at every summer, has impacted me in several ways. Through it all, I have definitely learned one thing: wear shoes when you ride a bike! It began as a pleasant bike ride, pedaling around the small town of Elk Rapids with my sisters, Anna, Jess, and Kate, and my cousin, Jane. My dad always told us to wear shoes and not flipflops, but, of course, we never listen. We were passing everything from the cute little shops to the old movie theater that stays in business by the flowing tourists and the occasional townie. It was early in the morning, and we had just stopped by the gas station to buy two twelve packs of coke that was now strapped in the baby seat on the back …show more content…
Slowly regaining conscious, they helped me stand up. I vaguely remember mumbling, “I can walk,” then trying to take a step and almost falling flat on my face. Now with the help of my sisters on each side of me, I hopped to the nearest bench and lied down. As my vision finally cleared but foot still throbbing, I tried sitting up, but was put down immediately, while Jessie got juice from a close-by store. I lied on the bench, waiting and earning many well deserved scolds from Kate about how I could have possibly managed to get my foot stuck in the wheel. Honestly, my only answer to this is that bicycles truly hate me, and to this day I am sure of that. Surprisingly, I managed to not shake up the two six packs strapped to the back of my bicycle, so I guess I had that going for me at
I was sitting in a basement that smelled bad and was stuffy, I needed to get out of there. I was with my friend who liked to ride bikes. So, we decided to ride bikes. Outside we only had 1 normal bike, the other was an old bike with a banana seat on it. I lost a coin toss so I had to ride the trashy bike that had trouble even going straight. There was a trail down at the park where we would ride the bikes. We thought we would go there first and then go climb on playground after. At the very beginning of the trail there’s this difficult hill that goes pretty fast and shoots you right at a left turn. If you didn’t slow down and turn fast enough you would crash.
Tears streaming down my face, I kept walking ahead wherever my small, roughed up feet would take me unaware of the consequences of doing so. I felt tears roll off of my cheeks slowly, and then all at once. My shirt was wet and cold because of the salt filled tears, my nose was runny and I used my Winnie the Pooh hanky to wipe the snot away. Within seconds, my nose felt irritated despite the soft, microfiber of the handkerchief and my hands were tired. My vision became really cloudy and I could barely see where I was going. At this point, I had lost all hope and my heart felt heavy, pushing me down with every hurtful step I took. I wanted to sit down and wait for my parents to come to me themselves, so I did. I sat down next to the gate to one of the other rides and waited for what I thought was years of time. I remember getting strange looks from people, as they walked by and I kept wondering why. The ground I was sitting on was unwelcoming, rough, and littered. My pants would definitely need to take a spin in the laundry. Mom wouldn’t be too happy about this, not just the fact that my parents had forgotten me and left me to venture out into the world solitary but also the fact that my clothes were dirty and I had generally made a mess of
I finally could see again. Blood ran down my arms and knees. My head spinning and throbbing, weak and unable to move. I couldn’t believe that riding in a golf cart, something that I had done since I was three, could result in an accident. That never should have happened.
I start to pull up some wheelies and i was doing good. I could ride one for probably a quarter mile. He passes me and i stay behind and i put my left knee on the seat and stand the bike up into a wheelie. Im in the wheelie and i'm going really good and all asuden i lose balance and my hands come off the handle bars and go to grab for them and i grab the front brake and when the bike lands the front wheel can't move so everything goes down. I was going about 50 mph. I hit the ground and start tumbling. I'm trying to get a grip on where i am and what's going on. When i stop i get up and kyler turns around and comes back to me. I try to get back on my bike but he says no. i look at myself and i'm all scratched up and there is a gash in my elbow down to the bone and my clothes are all tore up. Im standing there with blood running everywhere and he tells me to just leave the bike on the side of the rode and get it ces.
Eventually, a majority of my rides started to get lengthier, and I started to feel like I was starting to get the hang of it. I finally got the self-confidence that I knew I needed if I was going to be able to do overcome this challenge. I hopped on the bike, getting a feeling that this was going to be my lucky run. As usual, my dad gave me a little push start, and I was on my way. I rode through the grass like it was a breeze, and I didn’t fall off at all. I could hear my dad in the distance shouting, “Good job! You got it!” It was at this moment when I knew that I had finally learned how to ride a bike.
My Dad wanted to take us parasailing, and my sister and Carrie (my new step mom) wanted to go shopping. We decided to wait for a boat to pick us up in the afternoon for parasailing, and before that we would go shopping. So we went shopping until we got hungry for some lunch. Me and Tori just wanted to get fast food because we didn’t want to be late for parasailing. My dad decided to just take us to Hardee’s, but it would take us awhile to get there because we had to go to the one closest to the boat, which was about an hour away. I love long car rides, so this was the time for rolling down my window and listening to my music on my
I was visiting New York with my 8th grade class on an end-of-the-year trip. We had just been to Washington D.C., and drove for a long 4 hours to New York City. We got to our hotel, and our teachers let us go to bed right away. In the morning, the tour began. It was fun for the first half of the day, until we went to Central Park. I loved the scenery and the feel to the huge park in the middle of the bustling city, and I was excited to go on a bike ride around the park. I bike often on the bike trail next to the beach, so I thought of going with the advanced group. Little did I know there were lots of hills on our path. I felt like stopping and sitting down on the side of the road multiple times, since the drive was just too long. I had even lost sight of the group once and used my natural instincts to catch up once again. Another time, I fell over on my bike, and no one in my group really “helped” me. At least Mr. Sigler asked if I was ok.
Before we went down, my mom told me that I had to listen to every word she instructed me to do. We started to head down the hill slowly by turning our skis to the inside making it look like a pizza shape. This allowed me to zigzag down the hill at a comfortable speed. I began off slowly and started to go faster by the middle of the hill. My mom kept telling me to slow down. I kept trying, but it wasn’t working. At that time, I was almost at the end of the hill; I still wasn’t slowing down. I started to panic! As soon as I got to the end, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop. So, I purposely fell; it hurt, although not as much as it would have if I had crashed into the net. A man who worked at the Asessippi Ski Resort saw me fall and decided to give me tips on how to ski. They were the exact same instructions my mom had given to
Unfortunately, not all memorable events are pleasant. Although most people immediately think of a positive experience when asked, "What is your most memorable event?" The typical responses are happy thoughts, however; that is not the case at hand. By definition, bittersweet means both pleasant and painful; two emotions: sadness and happiness, endured at the same time. Hell with a silver lining describes it just as well, I believe.
If there was a turning point in my life, it probably occurred around my freshman year of high school. Before this year began I has recently received the sacrament of confirmation in the Catholic church. In my church this sacrament is seen as a final step in the process of attaining full membership into the church. We believe that through it you receive certain special gifts and insights. I broach this event because something definitely changed in me after this process. Up until freshman year I had struggled to even get all A's. I'd usually end up just shy of all A's. Suddenly, in freshman year, something just clicked. I was off to a fairly good start with all A's. Something else had changed during this year that probably affected this trend. During
While working as a healer, I began picking up on the causes of my client's illness or injuries. I would know things that the client hadn't told me, And often times they themselves hadn't even considered. Once the information had been discussed with the client, the pain from the trauma would go completely away.
I then ran back outside, awaiting further assistance. After she had laid down a trail of newspaper, the receptionist called me back in and accompanied me to a sink where she would rinse the blood off of my badly sliced wrist. As my red, young blood flowed down the sink, and the tears trickled down my face, I realized that this was the first actual test of pain that I had dealt with as a child. At least for the moment, I wasn’t such a bad ass.
I came from a decent sized city in Texas named Weslaco. I have lived in a loving divorced family since I was 5 years old. My brother and I were given joint custody so we have lived with both our parents despite the divorce.
Out of all the quarters this school year, I feel like this quarter has made me progress the most, because I put a lot of effort into reading books and enjoying them, there are many . As expected, I got better and faster at reading but an unexpected change was that I write better compared to last year. One of my major losses was that I was becoming uninterested and bored from too much reading, which explains why my total pages read decreased compared to the other quarters.
It all started with just one road trip that changed my thought about how road trips could be a horrible experience. Over the summer my family and I were going on a road trip to Canada, but many things had happened to us. Before we head to Canada, we had to go to the airport to pick up some of my family members that came from India. So on a friday night, around twelve o’clock we went to the airport to pick them up. When we got there we meet each other and then left the airport. That’s when the road trip started.