| Newfoundland 2003 |
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| Tuesday December 30, 2003 [con't] Aaron also remembers the dramatic face plant he took on Uncle Pat's rock driveway. It may have been that same year, I don't know. He hadn't been riding a bike all that long, whenever it was. Both of us had brought our bikes up that year. But only Aaron rode his down Uncle Pat's hill. That once. It's a steep hill. I guess he went up there to be a little farmer with Uncle Pat. I think I remember them being buddies that year. I think Aaron learned to milk the cow. So that one day I guess he took his bike up. He had to have walked it up, because it's quite a hill. I don't think he could have biked it. He gained too much speed on the way down and he panicked. He clutched the hand brakes, which did a fine job of stopping the bike, but were less effective at stopping him. He flew over the handlebars and landed face first in the gravel and loose stone. After a brief slide, he came to a stop and pretty soon afterwards he was in the kitchen screaming his poor little head off, his chin and nose covered in blood and small stones. "Oh," says his friend Sean now. "Everyone else was doing it, so you figured you had to too?" One of my brother's few rites of passage. |