Despite my resistance, my mother buckled the ugly, black helmet to my head.  “At least this one does not have a chin strap,” I whispered to myself.  Although I am temporarily upset about this bulky, annoying hard-hat being strapped to my head, excitement takes over, and I race to get on my brother’s new trick bike.  I admire how my brother jumps the ramp with such grace.  My young self believes all my skills surpass his in most activities, so my mind tells me I can reach a greater height than him.  “Run faster or else you’re gonna fall!” my brother shouts as he runs alongside of me.  I pedal faster and faster until he cannot keep up.  My heart races, and the closer I get to the ramp, the more my mind starts to second guess itself.  Stopping now is not an option because I would appear to be a coward, and my competitive drive would not allow me to admit that I was unable to do something that my brother could.  I hear a thump under my tires and know that I have entered the ramp.  Although I cycle so fast, everything around me seems so slow.  In those one or two seconds I am on the ramp, I decide that this task is too daring, and today is not the day I want to hurt myself.  My fingers squeeze down hard on the brakes, but my timing is too late.  My front wheel slams down on the ground and stops, and I realize my legs are above my head.  The back of the bike flies over me because the front is stopped because of the brake.  My face approaches impacting the ground when a question pops into my mind: use my arms to protect my face and possibly break my pitching arm, or just let my face suffer the consequences?  I guess I choose my arm is more valuable than my face, so I close my eyes and hope for the best.  Pain shoots up my jaw and into my ears.  Blood pours out of my pointy chin and onto the cement.  “Are you okay?” my sister shouts.  My mother walks out after hearing my sister scream and immediately grabs a towel.  She holds the towel to my face and explains that I need to go to the emergency room.  This experience is a first for me, and my body shakes in fear.  Six stitches and a bunch of pain medications later, I return to my home to see that the bike and ramp are away in the garage.  That day was the last day the bike and ramp duo saw the sunlight until we cleaned out my garage a year later.  Those items were the first to be given away.  My poor brother received that amazing trick bike two days prior to my accident.  That toy was his favorite Christmas present.  Unfortunately, my accident ruined the excitement, and no one ever attempted another stunt on the bike again.  Although this horrific incident scarred me, I thanked God that my arm stayed intact with not even a scratch.  My arm surviving the event meant more to me than my injured face and my brother’s tears.