Hot days like today remind me of the summer day I got hit by a car. I was 9. It was pretty unfair–I wasn’t even in the street. I was in my very own front yard playing Monopoly. The thing that possibly saved my life is that I had moved from the spot I was sitting in because I was losing and I was mad. I was standing up, and kind of leaning over the board and a car crashed through the bushes, struck me on the right hip, and threw me out of the way. I lay on the lawn dazed, and looked at the car, which had hit our front porch.
A lot after that is pretty blurry in my memory, but I do remember a few things:
1. The woman who was driving the car was worrying that she had injured someone, so the next day my mom had me write a note that we could take to the hospital. She made me do it over again because I signed it, “From the Kid you Almost Killed.”
2. I was traumatized because my mom made me pull down my pants and show the policeman where I’d been hit. I’m sure if it had happened in these days I would have gone to the hospital and been checked out for internal bleeding.
3. I developed a lifelong distrust of the media because I was allowed to stay up late to watch the news (reporters had come to the house) and the anchor person said about the woman in the car, “According to the kids, she didn’t pass Go, so she didn’t collect $200.” I knew we didn’t say that, but was too young to understand adult humor.
That day was how I learned for sure that life is dangerous.