Personal Narrative: When I Let My Bike Jump

When I was in first grade I witnessed a motorcycle accident outside my elementary school. A man had been riding, without a helmet or jacket, and hit a bump. All I remember was the bike flying into the air then into a nearby front yard and the man disappearing. I was so close to it I could see everything that happened. Everyone started screaming and rushing around. The man had slid under a car that was pulling out of the school parking lot and was stuck under the rear wheel. Later I learned he had an acute subdural hematoma and the car was still on his chest. They tried to lift the car off of him, but he immediately started chocking on blood, resulting in them leaving the car on top of him until emergency response came. He was eventually taken to the hospital via helicopter.

The car shook and creaked as a motor took us up. For a few seconds, we were at the top. I looked around at the park, but then the car dropped and my stomach went with it. All I could remember from the rest of the ride was my first loop and the adrenaline pumping through my body. When I got off, I was dizzy but I yelled, “THAT WAS AWESOME!” My friends giggled as we walked to our next ride.

One sunny day I woke up and got out of bed and went into my mom and dad's room. I say, “Can we go buy my Dirt bike now?”

Fresh off a third place, my confidence was pushing me towards victory. I was competing in California and wanted nothing more than to beat the “fast cali kids” who ruled their home track. The first race of the night I started off behind, setting myself in a comfort zone I made up lost ground, picking off one rider after another I expressed my skill. On the last lap I saw an opportunity to take first with only a corner left. I twisted the throttle and my bike pitched me sideways into a loud bang.

All of us ended up arguing about it how we would go down it all together or one at time? Eventually we decided that we would all go at one at a time we jokingly said just in case one of almost dies we can get to them a lot quicker. My friend Josh goes first he made it all the way down and gave me the okay signal that i could go now. When i started making my way down it felt amazing the wind blowing in my air,how everything passed by me in a blur and that feeling of adrenaline, i honestly believed i could do anything well i was wrong. My Longboard started to wobble and i immediately panicked, I was going to fast to slow myself down. so i tried to jump into a grassy area, but that did not work out the way i planned considering i slammed into a brick mailbox Going easily past 21 mph. i don’t remember much about what happened afterwards. I remember being winded i could hardly breath and i couldn’t move i saw blood coming down from the side of my head going onto the concrete floor. The last thing i saw was my friend Noah running from the top of the hill towards me and my vision turning into a blurry

I shifted into first gear and took the small rough dirt path. I put both of my feet down. I would have tumbled off the bike it was so rough. There was a big jolt at the end of the path.

As we made our way across the park to the ride that I was dreading to go on all I could think about was how tall it is. You could see the ride from anywhere in the park and the park is huge. And it didn’t help that i knew that it went ninety miles per hour. The ride was called Millennium Force. Finally we got to the ride and walked right on. As we rode up the three hundred foot hill and I had the lap bar so tight it hurt my legs and i couldn't move. At the drop, which was more than straight down, was very scary. But it didn’t last as long as I thought it would. The ride was about a minute and a half long, but it was so much fun that it felt like it was thirty seconds. After the ride we walked out and my parents and my aunt and uncle were waiting for us outside of the exit of the ride. We went and saw the pictures of the ride and in my picture I had a huge smile on my

Trophies, broken bones, popularity is always hard when you're in BMX. Because of all the hobbies that is going on, I am always gone that I can't even go to BMX. All the hobbies that is going on for me is just too much. Ok, I'll keep talking. So here's all of the other things that would have to go through just to have it work.

The moment I believed would mark one of the best summer day of my life. As I got on the ride I slowly buckled up and my hands immediately grabbed on tightly the metal harness. While waiting on the people to start the machine I was closing my eyes and imaging how it would feel. Suddenly my feet were off the ground and I found myself looking up. At first I did not dare look down, for I thought I would start panicking. I quickly looked down and saw lights then looked back up. While it arrived to the highest point I said “This is a precious moment in your life, just take the time to look at the beauty in front of you.” I started to look down and got to see the whole park. It was like seeing Christmas lights, it was bright with different colors. Instantaneously the ride dropped, I felt as if my heart was going to come out of my body. I screamed so hard that I could feel my veins in my head accumulating the blood from the pressure of the ride and from me screaming. It stopped half way and it took us up again. This time it did not go all the way, but it slowly went up and once again it quickly went down. At the end of the ride, as my feet touched the ground I was so thankful to God that I made it through without having a heart attack or panic

I think my mom was trying to hype me up, but I was just staring at the track’s high peak. Many thoughts were scrambling through my mind; thoughts of death. I was picturing myself slipping out of the coaster, and the whole coaster flying off the track. Three..two...one. The Dragster took off in a snap of two fingers and I was immediately presented with a tremendous amount of resistance on my body and felt as if the Hulk was pinning me down. The Dragster goes 120 mph and in about five seconds, we were already climbing up the vertical part of the track. I did not screamed at all, I was just holding on to the bar for dear life. We came back down and the coaster came to a hard smile. I began grinning from ear to ear because that was actually fun. My mom looked at me and started laughing because of my toothy

I weaved on the sidewalk, around rocks, sticks and cracks. I exageratted the movement as best I could. I looked up and saw a white camry drive past me, just like mine. I craned my neck to follow it with my eyes. I looked ahead just in time to see my front tire slam into a raised edge of sidewalk. The shock resonated through mine and the bike’s body. And I felt the resistance of peddling disappear and I watched my chain fall off my bike. I began the slow deceleration out of hyperdrive and the world became more and more in focus. I didn’t hit my brakes, and I eventually glided to a slow stop. I closed my eye and took a deep sigh. I looked back at my chain a few hundred feet back laying flat and straight on the ground. And I felt a flash of intesne sadness, that even surprised me a little. But it was soon overcome by a dull and familiar sense of a harsh abusive reality toying with my existence. Chipping away a little here, and a little there,

With my town’s population of 12, I would think I would become fairly acquainted with the citizens of Bettles, Alaska, however I would soon find out just how incorrect I was. Biking home after a long day of work, I expected the same schedule of events as every other day: the Marcus family greeting me on their front porch, the town’s handy-man Michael Dunleavy persistently asking me if I needed any work done around the house, and Milton Hamlin, the decrepit military veteran, listening to his ancient record player that has been around since before any other of his neighbors were born. However, today was different; none of the aforementioned interactions occurred. Not seeing anyone was unsettling. Where was everyone?

Suddenly, I had a peculiar sensation of wetness on my back, as if my water bottle was leaking. Still racing down the mountain, I reached behind my back to adjust my pack with my right hand, braking with my left. I could slightly feel the back tire bearing less weight as my front brake took the brunt of the momentum. As I adjusted my pack, I compressed the front brake just a bit more to slow down. The next second, time stood still as I flew through the air, staring at the ground. A second later, the angry concrete tore through flesh and jeans and my bike clattered on the pavement. Hobbling to my feet, I assessed the damage: road rash down one leg, abrasions on both hands, and a plummeting ego.

I always had a fascinating fear with roller coasters as a child. Whenever I went to any amusement parks with my friends, I never dared to go on any roller coasters with them. It was a type of perpetual horror for me. I would have never gotten over it had it not been for my childhood friend Dean. Dean was the daring, loyal, and confident type of person, but can be frighteningly irrational at times. His personality made him the direct opposite of me who was rather shy at the time. As if it was fate, this lead to him helping me overcome my fear of roller coasters.

When we got there, I was extremely scared. My father had put one of his hands on the handlebars and the other underneath the seat. After a little while my father asked, “Are you ready?”