From my journal entry of October 24, 2006
My daughter Victoria has always been a "victim" of circumstance... she had seen more
emergency rooms by the age of sixteen than most people see in a lifetime. From stitches,
dogbites, dislocated elbows, car accidents, shin splints and even MORE stitches-- she's
experienced an overabundance of misfortune requiring urgent care. It is for HER that I write
this entry. I'm sure it will make her smile.
Did I say in a previous entry that I like to ride a bike? Saying that I like to ride is an
understatement.
Growing up in Rockingham, I thought my bike was the best, customized with every kind of
accessory imaginable--a single speed coaster bike with high rise handlebars, banana seat,
basket, horn, lights... Today, it would be considered "pimp". (in Victoria's own words) The
problem was that I only got to ride my bike about half the time-- the rest of the time, it was
locked away in the shed.
You see... Every time I'd get my hands on my bike, I'd walk it up the hill beside my house (on
Highway 74, across from Revels). Once at the top of the hill, I'd turn around and gaze down
at the most magnificent "run" ever-- a red clay and gravel road almost 50 yards long. By the
time I reached the bottom, I'd be FLYING! What a rush!
Unfortunately, during a rainstorm much of the dirt and clay would wash away, leaving big
ruts and exposed rocks that made the road very dangerous. Did that slow me down? Heck,
no.
Up the hill I'd go.
DOWN I'd ride, determined to get to the bottom in record time!
Then... major catastrophe! My front tire would get stuck in one of the ruts where the road
had washed away. and DOWN TO THE GROUND I'D GO. My bike would stay... and I would
slide about ten feet on my knees.
I'd stand up, retrieve the bike and walk back to my house, knees bleeding and looking like
raw meat.
Doc Benson (Streetie,my Dad), seeing my battle scars, would very calmly bandage my knees,
then lock my bike in the shed. There it would stay until my wounds healed.
Usually, it would take about three weeks. I'd be SO excited as Dad opened the padlock on the
shed so he could remove my bike and "hand it over". What would I do??? Yep... right back up
the hill. What a daredevil...
In another journal entry, I wrote of a minor "spill" I took while Carl and I were out riding. He
was looking away and missed my fall, so when he finally saw me on the ground, he thought I
had had a heart attack... or something. It almost scared him to death.
Two weeks ago on the West Orange Trail (a wonderful biking trail west of Orlando, FL), I took
another "spill". Later, I was telling a friend about it when he asked "How fast were you
going?" "I wasn't", I responded. I had stopped. The dismount GOT me. I got a nasty bruise on
my left shin, and hurt my right wrist breaking my fall. Again, Carl was looking away and
missed all the fun. Go figure.
So... let me tell you about TODAY.
On the sixth mile of an eight mile ride, Carl points out to me that there's a really nice steak
house at the Buena Vista Palace Hotel. He rode closer to the hotel as I turned right onto the
sidewalk in front of the hotel.
I ran off the sidewalk, tried to correct and failed... OVERCORRECTED, and took a head-first
dive into a large cedar hedge... landing again flat on my back with my bicycle on top of me. I
couldn't move.
Carl missed it AGAIN... but THIS time, he got to me in a flash!
"Da**, Tina, every time I look away, you do something stupid! You're going to break your
bike." He's trying to make light of the situation.
"I'm hurt." My eyes were closed. I had a pain in my left leg... and in my right wrist... and HE'S
worried about my bike.
I felt my head and found my hair full of twigs and trash.
I heard a strange voice shouting "Is she okay???" Oh, crap, somebody saw me wipe out.
"Oh, she's fine... she's fine!" he shouts back. He** no, I'm not fine. I told you I was hurt.
"I'm hurt". I opened my eyes, and all I could see was Carl's tennis shoes, just inches from my
face. I kept picking twigs from my hair.
Carl was still on his bike, less than a foot away. Get off the bike... Fall to your knees and
check me for injuries, you crazy man! At least ASK me where I hurt! (I'm still missing Doc
Benson.)
"Are you sure she's okay???" the strange voice again. Wonder if this guy is good-looking?
Maybe HE'D check me for injuries. (just kidding, honey!)
"Yeah... she's fine!" Okay, da** it, get off that bike and help me up!
"I'm fine!" I shouted from my prone position with my head in the cedar hedge. I was lying. I
still couldn't get up. I heard my faceless friend drive away.
Carl got off his bike, grabbed both my hands and helped me (carefully) to my feet. I brushed
off my knees, got the rest of the trash out of my hair, mounted the bike and rode
away...very...very... slowly.
By the time I reached the corner at Hotel Plaza Boulevard near Downtown Disney, I started
laughing at the memory of my big crash.
I looked down at my bike--- the front tire was traveling northeast... my handlebars were facing
northwest. My wrist hurt, my knee was scraped raw, I still had stuff in my hair, but, DA**...
that was funny. We stopped for Carl to adjust my handlebars, got back on the bikes and
"took off" toward the Hilton Hotel. I laughed the rest of the way home.
Well... I'm not laughing now.
I can't bend my left leg.
Oh, I can't straighten it completely either.
Carl says that next time I fall, he's going to get out his camera phone and start snapping
pictures. I can't wait.
and, Victoria--- Mom now knows how you felt.
Until next time... or not.
Tina
(formerly Benson, as in "Streetie & Louise", native of Rockingham, currently living in
Central Florida.)
My daughter Victoria has always been a "victim" of circumstance... she had seen more
emergency rooms by the age of sixteen than most people see in a lifetime. From stitches,
dogbites, dislocated elbows, car accidents, shin splints and even MORE stitches-- she's
experienced an overabundance of misfortune requiring urgent care. It is for HER that I write
this entry. I'm sure it will make her smile.
Did I say in a previous entry that I like to ride a bike? Saying that I like to ride is an
understatement.
Growing up in Rockingham, I thought my bike was the best, customized with every kind of
accessory imaginable--a single speed coaster bike with high rise handlebars, banana seat,
basket, horn, lights... Today, it would be considered "pimp". (in Victoria's own words) The
problem was that I only got to ride my bike about half the time-- the rest of the time, it was
locked away in the shed.
You see... Every time I'd get my hands on my bike, I'd walk it up the hill beside my house (on
Highway 74, across from Revels). Once at the top of the hill, I'd turn around and gaze down
at the most magnificent "run" ever-- a red clay and gravel road almost 50 yards long. By the
time I reached the bottom, I'd be FLYING! What a rush!
Unfortunately, during a rainstorm much of the dirt and clay would wash away, leaving big
ruts and exposed rocks that made the road very dangerous. Did that slow me down? Heck,
no.
Up the hill I'd go.
DOWN I'd ride, determined to get to the bottom in record time!
Then... major catastrophe! My front tire would get stuck in one of the ruts where the road
had washed away. and DOWN TO THE GROUND I'D GO. My bike would stay... and I would
slide about ten feet on my knees.
I'd stand up, retrieve the bike and walk back to my house, knees bleeding and looking like
raw meat.
Doc Benson (Streetie,my Dad), seeing my battle scars, would very calmly bandage my knees,
then lock my bike in the shed. There it would stay until my wounds healed.
Usually, it would take about three weeks. I'd be SO excited as Dad opened the padlock on the
shed so he could remove my bike and "hand it over". What would I do??? Yep... right back up
the hill. What a daredevil...
In another journal entry, I wrote of a minor "spill" I took while Carl and I were out riding. He
was looking away and missed my fall, so when he finally saw me on the ground, he thought I
had had a heart attack... or something. It almost scared him to death.
Two weeks ago on the West Orange Trail (a wonderful biking trail west of Orlando, FL), I took
another "spill". Later, I was telling a friend about it when he asked "How fast were you
going?" "I wasn't", I responded. I had stopped. The dismount GOT me. I got a nasty bruise on
my left shin, and hurt my right wrist breaking my fall. Again, Carl was looking away and
missed all the fun. Go figure.
So... let me tell you about TODAY.
On the sixth mile of an eight mile ride, Carl points out to me that there's a really nice steak
house at the Buena Vista Palace Hotel. He rode closer to the hotel as I turned right onto the
sidewalk in front of the hotel.
I ran off the sidewalk, tried to correct and failed... OVERCORRECTED, and took a head-first
dive into a large cedar hedge... landing again flat on my back with my bicycle on top of me. I
couldn't move.
Carl missed it AGAIN... but THIS time, he got to me in a flash!
"Da**, Tina, every time I look away, you do something stupid! You're going to break your
bike." He's trying to make light of the situation.
"I'm hurt." My eyes were closed. I had a pain in my left leg... and in my right wrist... and HE'S
worried about my bike.
I felt my head and found my hair full of twigs and trash.
I heard a strange voice shouting "Is she okay???" Oh, crap, somebody saw me wipe out.
"Oh, she's fine... she's fine!" he shouts back. He** no, I'm not fine. I told you I was hurt.
"I'm hurt". I opened my eyes, and all I could see was Carl's tennis shoes, just inches from my
face. I kept picking twigs from my hair.
Carl was still on his bike, less than a foot away. Get off the bike... Fall to your knees and
check me for injuries, you crazy man! At least ASK me where I hurt! (I'm still missing Doc
Benson.)
"Are you sure she's okay???" the strange voice again. Wonder if this guy is good-looking?
Maybe HE'D check me for injuries. (just kidding, honey!)
"Yeah... she's fine!" Okay, da** it, get off that bike and help me up!
"I'm fine!" I shouted from my prone position with my head in the cedar hedge. I was lying. I
still couldn't get up. I heard my faceless friend drive away.
Carl got off his bike, grabbed both my hands and helped me (carefully) to my feet. I brushed
off my knees, got the rest of the trash out of my hair, mounted the bike and rode
away...very...very... slowly.
By the time I reached the corner at Hotel Plaza Boulevard near Downtown Disney, I started
laughing at the memory of my big crash.
I looked down at my bike--- the front tire was traveling northeast... my handlebars were facing
northwest. My wrist hurt, my knee was scraped raw, I still had stuff in my hair, but, DA**...
that was funny. We stopped for Carl to adjust my handlebars, got back on the bikes and
"took off" toward the Hilton Hotel. I laughed the rest of the way home.
Well... I'm not laughing now.
I can't bend my left leg.
Oh, I can't straighten it completely either.
Carl says that next time I fall, he's going to get out his camera phone and start snapping
pictures. I can't wait.
and, Victoria--- Mom now knows how you felt.
Until next time... or not.
Tina
(formerly Benson, as in "Streetie & Louise", native of Rockingham, currently living in
Central Florida.)
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