Saturday, May 09, 2009

And we didn't wear helmets back then

My friend Jo has started this Stories in My Pocket series, and invited me to join more than once. Of course I will! I love telling my stories. I often have to stop myself from that social faux pas – jumping in on someone else’s tale to tell one of my own. In fact Jo’s story of moving to Texas reminded me of my own trip with a fresh husband to a fresh start in life, only ours was to London (but it’s not as poetic as hers, so I’ll leave that one –for now). And what is a blog, after all, but telling stories and hoping someone will listen/read?

I have been thinking all week about which story I will write – I just wrote about Caitlyn’s birth, but I have two other birth stories to tell. Second to people wanting to share their birth stories seems to be sharing puke stories, and 3 lots of morning sickness means I have plenty of those as well (including 4 times in airplanes, and two separate occasions in my father-in-law’s car).

Embarrassing stories are just that, so maybe I’ll steer clear of those. Love? How I met my husband, getting engaged at 30,000 feet, our soggy wedding, standing on a chair for God, or setting wooden airplanes on fire? Cute kids stories? Far, far too many to tell, including this morning’s declaration from Alannah that she wanted to marry Mommy so we could have a date night on Fridays.

Too many to tell! And there are those you don’t remember until something reminds you of that time when you cut your own hair, or ran across campus in bare feet at midnight, or sang a solo at some poor woman’s funeral (and no, I can’t sing, and no, I didn’t even know her). But the good thing is now I have a reason, once a week, to write a story (and there’s a list for me to choose from, in case I’m stuck next Saturday).

But for starters, I’m actually going to share THREE! A trilogy of bicycle accidents…
1. My need to do 2 or more things at once started young in life, and I used to read while I was riding my bicycle. We lived in a quiet town, and on a sunny summer morning there weren’t many cars. I was re-reading a book I liked whilst on my way to the library to return it. I didn’t even stop reading when I went over the railroad tracks…my wheels wobbled and got stuck in the groove of the track, I fell off and dropped the book (ripping the page), and completely panicked that my shoelace would get stuck in the track and a train would come and run over me. But I wasn’t stuck, and no train was coming anyway. I got up, got back on my bike, and continued reading!

2. I borrowed my sister’s bike without asking to go to the shop. Crossing at a traffic light (did I have the right of way? Probably not) a car pulled out and hit me. I fell off, but wasn’t hurt. The lady driving was so, so upset and wanted to take me home, but of course I refused because then my sister would see I had borrowed her bike. And she really would hurt me!


3. I was happily cycling home from softball practice singing a little song to myself. There was a set of hills on my way home, where you had to pedal really fast to build up speed down the first hill in order to have enough momentum to get up the second. I was pedalling away, fast fast fast, when suddenly …pop! My handlebars pulled right out. I was just holding them, and they were no longer attatched to the bicycle, and I was flying down a hill with no means to steer or stop. Except for a parked car. Then I had to get up and with my scraped up knees and nose, I had to walk my broken bike home while carrying the handlebars and my softball mitt. And crying. And thinking, maybe I’ll get a new bike. But I didn’t – I got my sister’s old one, the one that had been hit by a car but I had never told anyone.

1 comments:

Jo 12:29 PM  

Oh, Jane, this made me LAUGH. HARD. (out loud of course). You crack me up. Those bike stories are so, what's the word....YOU! I can totally picture it!!
Thanks for joining in....hope you'll do so every week!!

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