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 |  A place to keep my personal thoughts. |
| January 2, 2019 Prompt: Write about your most memorable birthday. This one's easy. After months of begging and numerous promises (I'll get a job...I'll do more chores...I'll win a Nobel Peace Prize), my parents bought me a bright blue Ford Mustang for my 17th birthday. Oh, it was gorgeous! After having the requisite cake and taking each of my parents on a test drive, I rushed to go out and show my new ride off to my friends. I had driven 4 miles, safely following the 55 mile per hour speed limit, when a humongous truck pulled onto the road, sideways in my path, and stopped. I was no more than 30 feet from the truck, so knowing I had no chance, I braced my hands on the steering wheel to prepare for impact. In hindsight, that was the worst idea ever, but it's what I did. I hit the truck so hard, its lug nuts went through my bumper. Next thing I remember, my car was totaled, and my left hand was killing me. The air bag had hit my hand, breaking my pinky and crushing my 3rd left metacarpal. Luckily, those were my only injuries. Unless you count a broken heart. My brand new, beautiful car, the car that only had only been driven 31 miles, was a total loss. After months of physical therapy, I was finally able to start grasping items and type again. It took years to fully regain the use of my left hand and, even now, there are times when it goes numb and/or aches. And even if I ever do forget my 17th birthday, I can look down at the scar (resulting from surgery requiring a plate and 6 screws) as I type as a reminder. |
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