I have been an enthusiast of wheels and speed since the day I laid eyes on my first car toy. I guess that's the influence of having three older brothers who were all hooked on the same interest. They all taught me how to ride my first bike, to increase my pace and even do stunts without helmets, pads and other protections on like the ones we used to watch at the XGames Competition.
Call it being stupid but we don't really mind getting our own set of injuries. Instead, after letting our mother clean our wounds while she nagged how reckless we were, we would all brag about it then do the same stunt the next day, but of course, executing it much better.
No doubt I grew up being a risk taker, a daredevil. And that became worse when our father bought me a motorbike. I watched how most stuntmen do it in movies and as much as I could, I tried to imitate them. I had my falls, crashes and unbalances once in a while, injuries that I call self-inflicted rather than accident. But that was not the reason why I realized that there is more to life than riding.
I was on my way home one rainy night after I went on party, rather, a drinking session with my buddies. The road was already wet because it has been a cat-and-dog weather few hours before I hit it. I am much acquainted with each and every hump, disfigurement, holes and flaws of the concrete that I'm cruising in. But I didn't expect that the worse thing could happen that very minute.
I accelerated at my motorbike's fastest speed because I thought that there are not much vehicles travelling at such time. Maybe because I had too much alcohol, maybe because the gloomy weather made me feel drowsy while I drive or maybe because I am so reckless that I didn't see a six-wheeler truck coming right at me.
My other fault was that I forgot to open up my front light. I tried to hit the brakes but it wasn't good enough. For some reason, my front wheel crashed into the bumper of the larger automobile. It was dislocated from the whole bike. After the incident, my friends told me that they saw it at the other side of the road, few meters away from the accident site. The rest of the bike, including me, skidded right under the truck. That was the only time I thought of the helmet that I always took for granted.
The first thing I did was to cover my head and face with my arms. I can even feel the fiery sensation caused by the friction between my legs and the concrete. I had nothing else on my mind but realizing that this is my life's end. I found myself lying at the back of the truck. Right after that, I still had my consciousness to look at the aftermath.
My legs were bleeding but it was numb. It was a miracle on how the upper part of my body only got bruises. I was rushed at the nearest hospital where I had a few stitches on my legs. Luckily, there's no need for braces or anything whatsoever. I learned my lesson. I never rode my motorbike the same way again.
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