Memory: Falling Off Bike

I was talking to Benoit yesterday who took a tumble off his bicycle and it reminded me of when I fell of my bike.

It was June 1991 – alternative music was on the cusp of breaking big (at least up in Northern Ontario). Everyone was into Guns N Roses (except for I, as I didn’t really know much about music back then. All I know is that everyone was listening to Use Your Illusion. Actually, here’s another memory – the first music video that really caught my interest was November Rain. I remember seeing it as Regan’s place as his mom was watching it on TV.

One night I was over at Regan’s place and we decided to bring some Super-Soaker water guns over to the park and just run around with them. I remember holding the gun with my right hand and trying to hold onto both of my handlebars.

Right near St. Pat’s we were coming down a dip and I was behind Regan and realized I should slow down a tad. But with the gun in my right hand, I couldn’t really get a grip on the handlebars to tap the back brakes so of course in my brilliance I tap the front one.

Well, that didn’t work out too well. The bike went out of control – essentially it veered left into traffic and I veered right into the sidewalk. It was one of those raised sidewalks also. My face hit first from what I can remember. The water gun went flying. I sat there dumbfounded as Regan was yelling at some lady who had stopped her car to see if I was alright. He was yelling “He’s alright, he’s alright! Move along!” where I was thinking “Am I alright?”

That was the first time in my life where I didn’t cry after getting hurt somehow. I was more concerned with that aspect of the event – “Hey, I didn’t cry! What’s up with this? I just did a faceplant into the sidewalk and now my face is hamburger meat, but heck, I must be a man now because I didn’t cry!”

I didn’t know what it looked like so we biked back to Regan’s place. It must have been pretty bad as Regan’s mom had this look of ‘OH MY LORD, what happened to you?!”

We went into the bathroom and then I saw it – my face looked like Freddy Kruger. The right side of my face at least. The other one emerged unscathed. But it was pretty bad.

The next day was the last day of school – the end of elementary school and the beginning of high school. Yikes! We went to school and I remember Steve claiming (as a joke) that him and I got in a fight the night before and this is what had become of me.

I can’t remember how long it took to fully heal (perhaps Mom or Dad could fill in this detail) but I remember that it left a scar above my lip (which you can still see today). I also remember it used to look like a giant pimple which was pretty gross and back when you’re a teenager you take these things to heart in the context that:
a) Will I ever grow a decent moustache if there’s a giant pimple in the way?
b) Will ladies find me attractive if they always have to take a look at a giant pimple?
c) Will the giant pimple grow into some monstrosity and take over my entire body? (Alright, maybe I’m pushing it.)

So…I don’t know how long it took to remove this thing off of my face (but for some reason I think it may have been a few years later as I remember working at Woolco and after the surgery, I remember telling some guy that I had it removed and he said that he always thought it was some giant pimple!)

I also remember getting it removed as the Doctor kept harping on the point that trying to remove a scar doesn’t guarantee that it will look any better. I stuck to my guns and went ahead with it. I don’t know why, but as I recollect this memory I don’t think Mom was too much in favour of the scar being removed. I suppose I will have to ask her about it.

That’s the story of how I have a scar above my lip. I enjoy when I get these flashbacks and I document them for future readings. One day when I go senile, I can read back on these entries and say “Hey, I remember that!”