At the young age of thirteen, the thought that most children have on their minds is braces, but not me. At age twelve, my thoughts consisted of college, marriage, children, and my future career. On August 21, 2013, I discovered exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Up until that day, I dreamed of growing up to become everything from a veterinarian to a teacher. But that day, a man whose name I never learned changed my life forever.
August 21, 2013—the beginning of my eighth grade year. I had the identity of the nerdy girl, the student body president whom, at the time, dreamed of attending Princeton and becoming a powerful lawyer and eventually, President of the United States or maybe a skilled nurse or paramedic like the profession of my father. My mother had signed me out of school early for the day and we headed to Lubbock, Texas. We drove the barren thirty miles to the orthodontist for required x-rays that came before I could receive treatment that followed in the coming months. On the route home, according to our custom, my mother and I stopped for blizzards at Dairy Queen. The mint Oreo blizzard that came with each long, dusty drive home made the agonizingly boring car rides home almost worth it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
The drive from Shallowater, Texas to Lubbock, Texas required one to drive past a local bar/barbeque joint. I remember this restaurant seemed to change ownership almost yearly if not monthly. However, each time, the employees remained the same. The same green SUV and the same red motorcycle always parked to the side of the tin building. I often wondered who owned each of the two vehicles as I looked at the dust covering their glossy paint jobs. On this day, I discovered who possessed the red motorcycle. As we neared the bar, I saw a scruffy man hop on his bike and start the motor. I first remember questioning why the man had failed to put a helmet on his head. The motorcycle and man pulled out of the parking lot rather hurriedly into the two-way traffic. The scruffy man exited too quickly in too tight of traffic, and the backside of a blue SUV clipped his bike. He spun and lost control of his bike. His shoe flew off and the bike stopped flying through the air, but the scruffy man with the brown hair did not. He continued travelling with so much velocity and momentum I wondered if he would stop. My young heart seemed to stop beating as the traffic slowed and halted in the wake of the twisted metal. The metal seemed to go everywhere continuously. Every way my young eyes looked, another piece of the glossy bike seemed to appear.
Both my mother and I had previous experience in first aid. We each shadowed my father at his workplace and participated on emergency calls with him. He inspired me so much that I achieved my First Aid, CPR, and AED certification through the Red Cross. My mother remained calm as she turned the hazard lights of our car on, and grabbed the CPR mask from the side of her door. She left the car unlocked and I remember wondering, “but what if someone steals our car?” She yelled to me, “please be careful if you decide to help,” and continued running towards the scruffy man. Right then and there I decided to take a chance and live life. I ran to the back of my mother’s Nissan and opened the back hatch. My father, always worried for our safety, had stocked the back of the car with an EMS grade first aid kit. I retrieved the kit, rubber gloves, and 4x4s.
Hey guys! I'll post part two next week and as always, thank you for reading!
