The Miracle Helmet

By the time it was my turn to inherit a bigger bike, when I was 11 years old, all the bikes we owned were in really bad condition. But guess what? That meant that I was the first one in my family to get a brand-new bike — from a real bike store. A shiny, new, picked-it-myself bicycle. I was one proud peacock as we strutted into the store, me, my 13-year-old brother Avi, and my mother. The store smelled of fresh bikes, leather, and new tires, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. My brother and I looked at the bikes, felt the seats, and discussed the pros and cons of each one until we made a decision. My mother paid, and I wheeled my newest possession out of the store feeling like a million dollars. It didn’t occur to me that getting a secondhand, tried-and-tested bike might be a better idea. Of course buying a brand-new bike was better!

Or so I thought.

The first time I rode the bike, something felt wrong. The brakes weren’t working properly. I told Avi, and he took me seriously. “You have to check that out,” he said. “You can’t ride a bike if the brakes aren’t working well. That’s really dangerous.” So my mother sent us back to the store. Avi came with me again, and I explained the problem. The guy checked the bike and the brakes, straightened up, and pronounced, “Everything’s in order. There’s nothing wrong with the brakes, kid.”

I was surprised, but didn’t argue. I mean… he was the professional, the expert, the bike salesman, right?

But he wasn’t right.

It happened on the way home. Because the brakes weren’t working properly. And to get home from the bike store, I had to ride the bike downhill. And there was a big cardboard box plunked in the middle of the sidewalk. I tried to brake to avoid it, and tried again, and again, and I was getting more and more frantic, and sweat started pouring down my back and my face, and this takes a long time to tell but it all happened so, so fast, and the next thing I knew, I was trying to swerve, but my tire grazed the side of the box, and I went flying. Avi was riding right behind me and saw the whole thing. He said I flipped over the bike, but I was still trying to clutch the handlebars with all my might, so the handlebars turned and went right into my stomach.