Flippin' Awesome.

Time for another story from my childhood.

Lets go with the time I flipped a four wheeler, yeah?

I mean, it was less of a flip than it was a barrel roll, but we're getting way ahead of ourselves in this story.

So my grandfather had a farm out in Alabama, around 48 acres of land, all owned by him entirely.  I use the term 'farm' very loosely here, as it wasn't a farm for animals or anything, but rather a farm of FUN.  In all seriousness though. he did rent out the large fields, of which there were 3, to have hay grown on them.  These fields were used by all of his children and grandchildren when we came to visit, such as dirtbiking and frisbee or football throwing.  Enough of this tangent though, back to the story.

On this farm, we did many a thing, as described above, but we had no four wheelers.  On this specific visit, unbeknownst to me, dad had purchased a four wheeler for us to use.  NOt a full sized one, but a tiny one made for kids about my age at the time (which was like 3rd grade or something, so like 8 or 9 I guess?).  I had never ridden one.  I had only recenlty had my training wheels ripped from my bike without my consent( another story for later), and I was not ready for this.  I very warily got on and rode it around a little bit, realizing that the longer you pulled the throttle, the faster it goes and accelerates.  This was a terrible thing for me to realize.  I came around the house, flying at the fastest speed I could accomplish on that turn, and accelerated straight forward, trying to see how fast this thing could go.  I glanced down, watching in amusement how fast the grass was moving under me.  When I looked back up, I saw I was headed straight for a fence, and I freaked out.  Without thinking, I turned hard, not slowing down at all, but due to inertia, I continued forward while the vehicle tried to turn.  What I ended up accomplishing was a barrel roll of sorts, where I ended up face down in the grass, and the four wheeler flipped over me, evidently pressing into my back one time, right in the middle.

My mother hadn't been paying attention, having been engaged in a conversation with our relatives, but when she heard the motor cut off, she panicked, running out to make sure I'm alright.  My dad, naturally, believed I was fine, and with no concern for my well being as I was being taken care of by mother, went out to make  sure the four wheeler wasn't broken or anything.  All I remember is being pulled out of the grass imprint I'd made and being brushed off, with lots of questions about how I was feeling.  Honestly, I felt fine, my back didn't hurt, my arms and legs weren't harmed in any way, I saw no issue with getting on again.  On the other hand, my mother would have no more of me riding that thing for the day.  We went inside so she could check me to make sure I was alright.  She noticed a tire print on my back, and lifted my shirt to make sure I was fine.  Turns out, it pressed down just hard enough top cause some bruises in the pattern of a tire print down my back. Though I thought it was awesome and couldn't wait to get back on and ride again, she was now terrified, maybe even wary of the four wheeler itself, so I didn't get to ride again.  Silly mama.

That's it for now. Maybe nest time we get a childhood story, it'll be how I got 60 fire ant bites on one hand.