My little brother got a dirt bike for his birthday. Wouldn't touch it after he crashed straight into a tree... passed it to me. (Can you blame him? He's unused to having to exert effort to learn something. It goes against his grain.)
So I spent today trying to learn how to drive it, and I whizzed it around the backyard for about ten minutes before taking an epic spill by accidentally using too much acceleration, freaking out, then giving it MORE acceleration, meaning I went straight forward on the back wheel for about eight feet before flinging myself off of it, I was so scared.
Went in the house, washed off, came back out. Got back on the little torture instrument.
Drove around for about twenty more minutes. Accidentally went down a hill I knew I shouldn't have gone down - almost took an AWFUL wreck on the gravel driveway, but avoided it by braking (for the first time, since I couldn't figure out how to do the brake).
My dad laughed and helped me fix it and I managed to drive it back up the hill then back to the backyard. Insert ten more minutes. I finally get the hang of it, when - WHOOSH. Get going down a hill, a tad too fast... panic... accidentally pull the gas harder... freak out... accidentally give it ALL the gas.
It was something along the lines of WzzzzzzZZZZZZZZFZFZFZFZFZFZFZFZFSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBOOM, WZZZZZzzzzzzzpffft.
So now I have a stiff, awkward, completely scraped up right leg from the first fall and a completely muscle-wrecked left shoulder/upper back from the last.
My father fears the day that I get my own car.
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