My Meeting with the Asphalt

My epic story begins in the summer of 1991 in my driveway located in the sleepy village of Doylestown, Pennsylvania. It was one of those summer days were you would be happy that you didn’t accomplish one solid thing. This day, I decided I was going to try to accomplish something. My choice of weapon for the day was a wagon made of white plastic pvc pipes and connectors from a toy building set that was in my possession. That was the wrong thing for a 7 year old curious individual to have in the palm of his hands. I was sitting in the driveway twiddling my thumbs figuring out what to do with myself as a normal 7 year old would. Then the vision came before my eyes like a 14 year old seeing a Penthouse or a Playboy for the first time.

The plan was to see how my wicked little white machine on wheels would do in my wide open driveway that was saying “use me!” The only thing stopping me from glory was a vast, open driveway. I got the whole party going, starting up my 7 year old legs as fast they would damn well go. My legs started to go like Carl Lewis would go and as soon as I got enough going, they joined the rest of my body in the luxurious space inside the wagon. Most of the driveway was conquered. I thought at this point, the rest of the ride would be down easy street. Wrong. Then all hell broke loose. CRACK!! My next resting place was facefirst on the blacktop. Not exactly the place I thought id exactly be spending on a beautiful summer afternoon. The wagon and I fell short of our planned conquest to clear the driveway. I ran inside the house with my face more bruised and battered than Mike Tyson after one of his numerous championship losses. My dad was the first to know of my failed conquest and he saw my battlescars firsthand. It wasn’t the best day for a closeup during a model shoot. The wagon lay in shambles with the smell of failure also present.

Next stop was the big scary hospital aka Central Montgomery Hospital. This was my first actual trip to the big white building as a patient. It wasn’t really all that scary like they make it out to be. All the other visits were typical visit and raid the giftshop sessions. I was able to walk in on my own two feet out of a car and not an expensive ambulance ride. Going through those electric doors at the emergency entrance reminded me of going through the front entrance of your typical neighborhood supermarket. I then sat in the waiting room with the look of “Can you help me nice nurse? I had a little accident and the results didn’t fare in my favor!” A couple typical hospital hours later, it was my turn to march into the x ray room with something to prove. That something to prove was that I was a tough little kid who could withstand the pain that I just gone through. The magic x-ray machine chair was my next stop. Click, click, pictures taken. After the doctor himself gave the x rays a staredown, the lab results concluded that I got lucky going home with a fractured nose instead of the world famous broken nose. A broken nose was definitely not that far off. I then returned to the safe confines of my home away from that certain hospital experience. Some x rays, a “I fractured my nose” attitude and a less than bearable hospital bill are what I returned home with. I can say that was the last time I tried to conquer the driveway in my little white wagon. Mr. white wagon my friend, it was nice running driveways with you. Wagon racing has never been the same since that lucky day.

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