Then the dad threw me a curve ball.
“How do you feel about motocross, quads, and bikes in general?” he asked.
We were hanging out on the pool deck and it was 101 degrees out. I was tan and my face was flushed from the heat, but I swear it went white. I felt bad butterflies in my stomach.
My college boyfriend broke his neck riding a dirt bike on a racetrack. Now he’s in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. His life isn’t over. He got a settlement, got married and runs a business—but since I was his girlfriend at the time of his accident I know, saw, and did too much.
My son is not permitted to go near a dirt bike, motorcycle, or quad on my watch. When JD is 18, he can make his own choices.
I explained all of this to the dad. How I lived in a rehab center for a year. How our breakup sucked. How my life was and still is effected by HIS accident. The guy looked at me like I was a little crazy, but he probably never spent a night in a rehab center where everyone is paralyzed and needs help moving from side to side to avoid bed sores. Probably never fed his friend through a feeding tube.
I still recall the day, Uncle Bri came to the rehab to learn how to transfer my then-boyfriend into a car.
I remember every detail of that tragedy and I wrote about it for Glamour and appeared on 20/20. And I’m currently writing more …
It scared the sh*t out of me. And sorry, folks, the answer is no! I cringe at T-shirts with motocross riders on them. I change the channel if a motocross race is being televised.
I don’t want my kid to be enchanted by this sport.
I’ll prob show him Murderball one day. This is the story of mommy and the time that her college boyfriend broke his neck.
Wanna ride a bike, now?
Discuss and thanks for reading. xo