ARTICLES

The Bike Accident

By: Gian Erguiza - July, 2008

It was a calm, sunny afternoon and I decided to take advantage of the day and ride my bike on some trails. I was about 10 years old and had just got this brand new bike as a present for my birthday. It was the sweetest thing I have ever seen.

I decided to ride out onto the hills without mentioning a single word to my parents nor my brother and sister. My dad was busy playing poker with the guys and had been up all night, betting away. My mom was at home just hanging out and cleaning. My brother and and sister, both older, were amongst their friends as well.

I first rode out to the closest hill so I can have the house in plain view without any obstructions. In this way, I would always know where I was and therefore would not get lost. As day the day went by though, I started drifting away from the hill and onto different paths and trails and soon found myself riding farther and farther away from view.

At half day, clouds began rolling in and the sun was slowly fading away into the sky. I pad no attention of course and why should I, I was having so much fun! I was riding, jumping, speeding through puddles of mud and water, and testing out my brand new bike which seemed virtually invincible to me. I take a look at my watch and notice that I have been out riding for almost 3 hours. I did not even notice that I have been out that long and decided that maybe it was time to head back. Even with 2 hours in, I knew I was only a few blocks away from home which made me feel safe.

I kept riding. I rode onto the next hill and went into a forest area where there was more adventure to be found. As I was riding into the forest, I noticed the clouds quickly shifting into thicker clouds, much darker and ominous than the previous ones that covered the sun. Then it began. It started to rain and it started to rain real hard.

I quickly turned around and started my way back. As I was peddling back to my home, I noticed something. I noticed that rocks and mud had started sliding down from the hills making it hard for me to get through. I wanted to turn around and go another path but I wanted to get home so bad at this point that I was willing to take the chance. Big mistake.

As I was riding through the debris of rocks, sticks and mud, the force of the mud started pushing me and then the bike slipped on the rocks. I fell somewhere between 10-20 feet down. I got knocked unconscious.

I awoke to light drizzle with my eyes halfway open. As I try to fully open my eyes and get up, I notice that there is a very sharp and unnerving pain coming from my mouth. As I look down to see what was causing the pain, I got a chilling look at the damage. Oh my God. The handlebar is clear right through my left cheek. It had poked right through my left cheek with blood all over my face and my clothing. I had landed on the handlebar when I fell causing me to become unconscious.

I tried screaming for help but could only get a slight noise, almost sounding like when you wheez when you have asthma, and could not get my voice to go any louder. God the pain was now unimaginable and I was hurting like I’ve never hurt before.

After trying to scream for help, I noticed that the sun was about to set and that I had to act fast or else I will get stuck, down in this little ditch and probably will end up getting buried by more mud and rocks. I had to do something and I had to do it now. I picked myself up, with the bike in tow and handlebars still lodged in my cheek, and started to hike up. The pain was absolutely not going away.

After a few moments of struggling, I finally got atop the hill. I then had to walk back to my home, weary, bruised and bleeding with a little ounce of strength left in me. As I turn the corner, I see my dad and his friends and he looked at me in total amazement. After seeing my dad, I then passed out again.

The smell of anesthesia and the sound of my mom’s voice woke me up. I was now in a hospital bed with my uncle, which was the town doctor, and he was about to begin working on me. I don’t remember how many stitches and how much anesthesia he provided but it hurt like hell when he worked on me. At the end, he stitched me up and it took a couple of weeks to heal. The funny part about the hospital ordeal was, the whole town was watching my uncle work on me. The Philippines is weird like that, real third world and I love it!

I healed just fine and now bear a tiny little scar from my ordeal. I could not ever forget that day, how I got the strength to get up and get help or how I got myself to not think of the worse but think of my family. Thinking of my family is what got me through that whole ordeal. Thinking of my family is still what gets me through in life now.

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