Falling off the Bike

I was riding my bicycle in front of our house, which was one of six houses in a court. It was really my dad's bicycle, an old red Schwinn three-speed, but he didn't ride it anymore. My mom had the matching ladies version. I used to ride it to school and to soccer practice after school. Benny on the soccer team called it "hoopty," because it had big rims and was kind of old-fashioned. I had outgrown my old bike, but still needed something to ride. During the day, everyone was at work, so no cars were parked in the street and there was plenty of room to maneuver.

Strangely, none of the other neighborhood kids were around, so I was riding alone, doing circles in the court. For some reason I started shaking my head--I liked the visual effect of shaking my head while whizzing by on my bike. It made the world look all blurry and different. Unfortunately, I did it longer than I should have and lost my balance somehow. The next thing I knew, I was on the street with a severe lump on my head. I had fallen and banged it on the street somehow. I didn't ride my dad's bike for a long time after that.