New Scooter, New Hazzard
It was as dark as the bottom of the sea. My uncle had bought me and my little cousin brand new scooters. We rode them all night. I rode on a big hill in my uncle’s neighborhood. My scooter was green and pink. It was a Barbie scooter. Of course I was 9 years old and I didn’t listen very well. It was so dark I could see nothing not even my own hands. I zipped up and down the hill. My uncle told me repeatedly to stop going as fast as I was down the hill, of course being me I didn’t listen. I just ignored him and said don’t worry I’ll be fine. Once again I raced down the hill as fast as a torpedo whizzing through the air. I hit a crack and quickly moved my foot to press the brake but slipped. The scooter landed right on my wrist. I screamed in pain. “OW HELP, HELP, SOMEBODY HELP ME!” I screamed into the darkness. My uncle ran up to me and took me into the house and put ice on my wrist. I cried non-stop as if I were a fire drill that constantly rang. We sat and waited for my mom to come home as my cousin nagged me about my wrist. “Is it broken? Can I see hit it?” I got agitated and yelled “Get away from me!” She ran into my room. My mom finally came home. She looked at my wrist and said to wait and see if it got better. I went to school and did the monkey bars and all. It still pained me to do so, but not enough to prevent me from doing it. It still hurt after 2 weeks so my mom took me to the doctors. He took x-rays and we found out that I had fractured my wrist. It’s when you crack the bone and is not necessarily a brake. That’s my hazardous memory.
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