Hey guys, slow down! This bike sucks

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“Hey guys, slow down! This bike sucks,” I yelled to my cousin Kelley and best friend Amanda. The three of us decided to go on a bike ride and a picnic in the middle of this extremely hot, humid summer day. I had let my cousin use my nice mountain bike, and I took the ancient bike that was really meant for long, leisure rides, not what we used our bikes for. The petals were made of metal, and the rust was spreading like a wild fire. Its tires were much larger in diameter than normal bikes and thin like ribbon. It was so humid that sweat immediately started pouring down your face the second you stepped outside. You felt like you just stepped out of the shower. Amanda was 14, I was 12, and my cousin was 11, and we hung out together every single day.

At the time, my neighborhood was getting a whole new addition. There were tons of new roads and new houses being put up all on the east side; this is where we loved to ride our bikes. As we approached the new streets Amanda looked back and asked, “Do you guys want to eat under the bridge, or in a new house?” We all agreed that it would be more fun and a lot cooler in a new house. Because the houses didn’t have windows, or even all of their walls yet, the breeze would blow through and keep the temperature fairly comfortable.

We all were riding along, quiet now, enjoying this peaceful summer day. My bike had 8 gears, but only about three of them worked, so I was frantically peddling my scrawny little legs, trying to keep up with the other two. Then, all of the sudden, I felt my bike stop. I gave out a loud, “AHH,” as my back tire floated at least three feet in the air. I was gripping the handlebars for dear life, and then I felt the bike leaning to the left, and my heart started to race. I could see the hard, uninviting ground quickly coming towards my face. I could only close my eyes and pray that I would come out of this in one piece, and before I knew I it I was on the ground with my bike on top of me. Amanda and Kelley quickly turned their bikes around as they were yelling back towards me, “What happened? Are you ok?” Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t know exactly what had just happened. Though tears were pouring down my face, I couldn’t help but to start laughing at myself. Once Amanda and Kelley saw that I was laughing, they joined in.

As they lifted the bike off me and helped me to my feet, I realized there was an excruciating pain in my leg. I looked down, and I saw a gash just above my left knee. It was much wider than it was deep, but I knew right away that I was going to need stitches. The cut was covered in dirt, tiny rocks, and blood was slowly overflowing the sides. I looked up at my cousin, and said, “You are going to have to go get my mom.” Well, of course we were on the complete opposite side of the neighborhood from my house, and my cousin was very plump for an 11-year-old. She replied, “Ok, no problem,” jumped on her bike, and rode down the street. Amanda and I couldn’t help but chuckle to ourselves, because Kelley looked like a little pig trying to run up a giant hill. We knew it was going to be a few minutes before she reached my mom. Amanda and I just sat there, using the water we had packed for our picnic to clean out my wound. When the water first touched the cut, it felt like 1,000 needles had fell into it. We continued to pour water onto it until the bleeding stopped and it looked clean. Amanda kept talking with me, to keep my mind off of the pain.

After about 10-15 minutes, my mom pulled up in front of us. Like all moms would have reacted, she jumped out of the car with a look like she had just seen a mouse. She hurriedly looked me over, making sure I wasn’t missing any parts and repeatedly asked, “Are you ok?” It took her a few minutes to realize I wasn’t even crying. My mom hates seeing anything gory, so I had my hand over my cut and told her I needed to go see a doctor. She looks at me with half of a smile saying, “Monica, you aren’t even crying, it can’t be that bad. Let me see it.”

I said, “No, it will make you sick, I know it.”

She said again, “Monica! Come on! Let me see it!”

“Mom, no, it looks really bad.”

I continued to refuse, but she would not believe me. So finally I lifted my hand just enough so she could get a quick peek. As soon as she saw it, she grabbed her stomach, whirled around, and let out an, “Ewwee!”

We finally loaded up the bikes in the trunk, and climbed into the car. I turned to my cousin, who was still gasping for air, and said, “Thanks Kelley!” She only replied with a smile, because she didn’t have the energy yet to say your welcome. We drove to the doctor’s office where I only received seven stitches.

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