I am not sure if I mentioned that Dan got my a bicycle for my birthday in May. It's a sixteen speed Schwinn that he bought in Kopp's Bicycle Shop. We've taken it out a few times, because we have a long trail behind our house that leads all the way into Plainsboro. One of the first times we took it out, we were riding on the sidewalk and came up against a dad with his baby in a stroller. I was in the lead, and the other times this had happened on the ride, Dan went into the grass to avoid the people, so I did the same. Of course, I choose the section of grass that was actually a deep hole. The wheel stuck in the hole, and I flew headfirst over the handlebars and landed on my face in the spongy grass. No injuries, except that I felt stupid and also, I swallowed some grass.
The next day, we went on another ride and I managed to not avoid a giant branch jutting over the sidewalk and so scrapped it with my arm, which caused a giant gash and a dark bruise that I showed to whomever would tolerate it, hinting that Dan was getting violent.
You will be proud to know that since that time, I have continued to ride my bike, though with a different idea about the danger level and a huge reluctance to ride in the grass.
Maybe this is how Stephen King gets his ideas for stories, from day to day minor traumas and I should start a novel about a possessed Schwinn, ala
Christine.
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