Crashing my bike at the Sunoco gas station was the closest I’d ever come to hitchhiking. It was on one of those last days of summer, when cooler temps begin to creep in, getting a head start on fall. I was 15 and had set out on my bike with no destination in mind, just the desire to go far. Pedal to the wind, I was focused on the road ahead.
Faster, faster, I kept pushing myself. I was about to cut across the Sunoco, when smack! I hit the curb at its highest point. My bike skidded across the ground, coming to an abrupt halt by the gas pump, while I went barreling in a different direction, slamming my face into the pavement. I chipped a tooth and dented my nose, and my knees and legs were scraped into a bloody pulp. I was shaken, yet trying hard to remain stalwart despite the burning feeling all over my legs. And it didn’t help one iota knowing that I was a long ways from home. Continue reading