I think I have the right to say that I deserve everything that comes my way, whether it be a lack of thought process or just poor luck. This story equips both adversities I would like to imagine.
At the circa of my youth, I was deeply interested into BMX. I had my favorites like Dave Mirra and Kenan Harkin. When I installed grinding pegs onto my Mongoose bike, I could do anything. For me, the defining difference between your shitty Schwinn bike and my breathtaking BMX bike was the pegs.
I rode this contraption for hours upon hours to the extent of days it seemed like. If I wasn't inside my room, I was outside on that god damn bike. I knew the day would come that a ramp would spawn somewhere in my neighborhood. It glimmered in the distance... somehow it did, it was made entirely of wood. It's ethereal presence just tingled my senses as I rode into proximity of it. Sitting on my bike, peering at this section of plywood precariously placed on a barrel. It was perfect. I knew that very second, this shit was going down.
I had my flame-decal helmet on. To this day I still can't believe I mustered up the courage to make this motherfucker fly off the ramp. I was confident that I was gonna rocket off that ramp and possibly even pull off a double tail whip in the process. Speeding up, I had no apprehensions. Traveling at what felt like Mach 3, I make contact with the ramp. "This is gonna rule!" I thought to myself as I elevate up the ramp.
Almost immediately when my front tire passed the lip of the ramp, it literally fell straight down and lodged itself between the ramp and the ground. As the front tire found its place snug in the right angle of the ramp and ground, the rest of the bike pivoted forward, flipping me across the ramp, over the bike, and into the ground. I may make it sound ever-so-glorious, but if you were there, it was the most pathetic attempt at anything extreme endeavored.
As of today, I haven't even sat on a bike for at least 10 years.
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