no brakes

In an effort to help my brother and the paper route that he did not have time for, I gained one of my most noticeable scars.

My brother had football practice one day and didn't have time to deliver his afternoon route. Being the bored 11 year-old that I was, I decided that I would tackle the challenge and help him out by attempting to deliver the papers. As I started down the massively steep hill, papers in my front basket and on the back of the bike, I started to lose control. As I gained more speed and lost more control, I started tumbling with the bike until I finally flew into a rock embankment. Papers flew in every direction, most of them now marked by blood.

As I examined the situation and saw my extremely bloody knee, among many scratches and bruises, I picked myself up and headed to the nearest house to call my mom. I knocked on the door and was immediately taken care of by a compassionate older lady whom I did not know. She drew a bath for me in an effort to clean off some of the embedded rock and oozing blood. By the time my mom got to the house to pick me up, I was sitting in a bath of bloody water, my own blood bath, in a stranger's house. I'm not sure, but I believe my mom passed out. She probably has a scar from the day as well. After a hospital trip and 15 stitches, my knee eventually healed; however, I still have a scar that reminds me of my fall–all in an effort to be the best little sister I could be.