Wooooooaaaaammm! “Thirty-five mph” I yelled. Brandon and I were racing our dirt bikes. Two seconds later I glanced at the speed omitted and the little red thing was at forty-two. I smelled the fresh air from the wind. Then all of a suddenly my back tire locked up; I began sliding completely sideways. My foot smashed into the ground over and over trying to keep the 200 pound bike up. My knee scraped the ground .The back brake wrapped around my leg like a demon cobra trying to murder my leg. The ditch came closer and closer then BOOM into the ditch. A sharp pain stabbed my butt I landed in a mud puddle, and my but was in a puddle of blood. I ripped a Chico out of my sitting machine, I saw a laid out bush. I got up and fell back down of a bad pain in my hip.

Thirty minutes before that grizzly crash I was thinking to myself: I hope I don’t wreck today, but my thoughts were weaker than my actions. Brandon and I were putting gas in our dirt bikes. A mouth full of gas shot into my mouth. It was the worst taste ever. I purposely spit it on Brandon and in payback he threw up all over my dirt bike, so I made him wash it
We suited up and got ready to go on the biggest ride of our lives

“Should we wear our helmets,” asked Brandon.


“No helmets are for losers,” I explained.

We started our motorcycles. The vibration tickled my jewels. We bolted off, me and Brandon started racing I hit forty-two, then my back tire locked up. It was in a blink of and eye that I was on the ground balling, a pair of white hands scooped me off the ground and plopped me on the back of a motorcycle. The wind from going home gave ma a chill which made my leg heart even worse being on the back of a dirt bike after I crashed made me so frightened;. I played the crash again and again like my own little movie. Every time I thought of the crash the more I got scared the more I thought negatively.

We showed up at my house. I limped into Jesse’s room and told him what happened. I was expecting an, are you ok but no, I got a,



“You stupid idiot why did you go and wreck that bike?”



“I didn’t mean to the bake tire locked up,” I explained

‘



“Oh ok well I am going back to bed,” Jesse tiredly said.
“Stupid idiot,” Jesse mumbled as I walked out the door.
T he next week I was on the back of Brandon’s dirt bike and he let me ride it, and I rode it, I rode the heck out of that bike. It felt like I was going fifty-five, but I was going fifteen. So I stepped up and got fifty-five. I closed my eyes and played the movie again. I couldn’t ride it anymore, I stopped in my tracks. Brandon asked me what happened and I told him.



“The more I ride I think I’m going to wreck, and I am not going down again.”




“C’mon I wrecked and I am still riding like a champ,” Brandon said.

“First of all you didn’t wreak you tipped over, you don’t ride like a champ you ride like crap,” I described. Brandon’s face turned from happy to sad.




“Don’t cry man,” I said




“I don’t cry I’m not a baby,” Brandon tolled me.

“Ya well you look like a gigantic baby,” I yelled.

He got happy again. After that day I wear a helmet when I ride because I do not want to get hurt, and I am a responsible rider. That goes for all of you who don’t wear a helmet.