Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day.

I know it is a few days early, but if I don't do this now, I may be too tired or forget to do it later, you see we are having 2 days of neighborhood yard sale starting Friday morning at 7am sharp.

This is not about the coming Mother's Day, but a Mother's Day past.

It's 1972. I live in rural Oregon. I am 8 years old. I am in the second grade. I have a dirt bike that I ride almost everyday. This is how I get to my friends and just have fun and kill time as the Internet is almost 30 years away.

My mother works in Albany, about 35 minutes away. We live on a rural road next to a covered bridge, at the bottom of a small hill and a nice sweeping 90 degree corner.

For Mother's Day, I gave my mom a ride on my motorcycle. Probably more terror for her than a gift, but I was happy.

She left for work just before noon and I went to my friends house up the road on my motorcycle. Oh, how the times have changed!

About 3pm it started to rain and I decided to go home. I took off and headed to my house about a mile away. I usually would get going good and fast and whip around the corner go through the bridge, turn around on the other side of the bridge and then cross back and go home.

Well, being 8 years old I did not understand a lot about physics, in particular how they apply to wet roads and knobby motorcycle tires on pavement in a corner that has little to no banking. Lets just say it was like riding a block of ice on a teflon road with a 90 degree turn and no banking in the turn.

I lost control of my motorcycle about half way through the turn and slid into the guardrail. I flipped over the guardrail and landed about 30 below the road by the river on my back. My motorcycle, still apparently running, idled it's way into the middle of the bridge and fell over.

One of our neighbors that I saw on a regular basis as I rode by his house, saw my bike in the middle of the road and me nowhere to be seen. Knowing that I rarely left the side of my bike, he went to the house and asked my older sister if she knew where I was. She didn't. As far as she knew I was riding my motorcycle somewhere.

They started to look for me. Calling my name. I eventually became conscious that someone was calling my name and I answered back. I could not move. I couldn't figure out why then, but it would become apparent later.

I yelled to my sister that I couldn't move and she called the Sheriff. The Sheriff called the hospital in Albany and they dispatched an ambulance. Obviously before the ability to dial 911 for emergency services. We even had a party line that she had to convince them that this was a real emergency, not like some of the other emergencies that the party line was cleared for.

I was in and out of consciousness for a while and the next thing that I knew the ambulance was there. The EMTs climbed down the hill to assess my situation.

They found out why I could not move. I couldn't move for 2 reasons. Reason 1, my left leg was broken just above the ankle, and not looking too good. Reason number 2, the more important reason at least to me, my helmet was stuck to one of the bolts that came up out of the bridge footings. I could not move my head because my helmet had become one with the support. They unbuckled my helmet and I could move.

They put a splint on my leg, covered me with a blanket to keep me warm, and were getting ready to haul me up the hill when it started to sprinkle. As it started to sprinkle the EMT with me decided to cover me up all the way, that is he pulled the blanket over my head.

Apparently the Sheriff called my mom at work and she had been racing toward home, just to arrive as it started to sprinkle. They directed her to an area by the guard rail that you could see me from, and as she looked down, I was just getting my head covered up.

"OH GOD! MY BABY IS DEAD!"!!! Came the blood curdling scream that brought me back to semi-consciousness.

I flipped the cover off of my head and yelled back to my mom. "No I'm not mom, I'm OK"!

This was too much for her and she promptly passed out. On the way to the ground she struck her head on the guard rail.

When they finally got me into the ambulance, my mother was already there being treated for a concussion.

We rode to the hospital together on that Mother's Day. I don't think that she or I will ever forget that one. I never gave her another ride or even offered it. I did eventually get a bigger motorcycle, even though mine was not harmed in the accident. I was the cushion between the bike and the guard rail.

I hope Andrea doesn't get mad, but I don't want any memorable Mother's days any more. I want them to come and go happily (ever after).

Happy Mother's Day moms!!