6A Room 12
It was a cloudy Friday afternoon and I geared up, sliding on a shiny new helmet. I climbed onto my new 2-wheeled beast (2006 Suzuki GSX-R 750) and decided to take the rest of the day to learn how to move in sync with the machine. I had been riding for about an hour when I had became impatient with a slow-turning vehicle. I took the advantage to give a little extra gas and go around the slowpoke. Once cleared, i began to coast and noticed a cop to my right. I looked down at my speedometer and realized that I was going 69 in a 45. Without delay, the cop on his bike chased after me and pulled me over. Not only did i get a ticket, but I also discovered that someone had stolen my license plate, and received another penalty for not having my proof of insurance yet, even though it was in route via mail. They didn’t just take the license plate, but the entire license plate holder which also had my registration and inspection on it. This was not how I wanted to spend my first day with my new toy. I ended up going to the courthouse a couple blocks away in hopes to get a new license plate. I stood in line for about half an hour, the whole time reminiscing about my old V8, which I had sold just that same week. Of course by the time it was my turn, the lady said there was nothing I could do at that point and time. I didn’t want this to ruin my day, so I decided to shrug it off for the moment and continue to ride. I ended up in the town that my parents live and wanted to show them my new ride. Of course, when I got there, it appeared no one was home. I sighed, continued about my journey, and then five minutes later, saw my father on his motorcycle heading home. I waved trying to get his attention, but I didn’t think he recognized me, so when he passed, I turned to look, but he did not look back. As i looked back in front of me, it had come to my realization that the black pickup truck in front of me had come to a complete stop. I don’t exactly remember how much space was between me and him when I realized this, but I took the only action necessary and leaned right as hard as I could, trying to make it to the shoulder. Almost to my goal, I hit the edge of his back bumper and was sky-rocketed off of the crotch-rocket. After the first hit on the pavement, I see the bike barrelling past me, flying into pieces. After a couple more skips across the ground, I come to a dead stop into a street sign. Within seconds, immense pain takes over my body. I lift my head up to look at myself and see that just above my knee, my leg had folded against itself to where my ankle was wedged between the sign and my hip. It had shattered my femur with bones protruding out of the skin. Witnesses come rushing over to the accident to try and help me, and then call 911. It wasn’t long before they realized I was losing too much blood, and had to life-flight me to the hospital.
My stay at the hospital was not the most pleasant and not on the end that I would want to be on. It was a very long week, but I had many people come out to show their support. Feeling for all the people that cared for me brought me to tears and helped keep me happy. And the best of all was that my loving fiance stayed every night with me. After my release, my parents took me in to keep watch over me and I’m glad to finally be out of there. It’s going to be a long way to recovery and to be honest, I’m scared, but I can’t focus on this Goliath that is facing me. I must focus on God.
“It sucks to have to lay still”