The Reason

I have decided today that I will use this blog to capture the moments that I will experience throughout my senior year of college and life thereafter. I'm not sure what this year will bring to me, and I am certainly not sure of what I am doing after I graduate, but maybe this will help me to figure it out. At least it will track my progress. I also am going to be writing the tales of my life, whether they are humorous, bland, mundane, or enchanting. This brings me to my first story. Be prepared...

I have spent the last three weeks of my life working with the Ball State football team, as a stundet athletic trainer. Those 14 hour days have a tendency to wipe you clear of any energy that you have, or should I say, had. It also makes it difficult when you are experiencing a summer cold, or what I like to call Bronchitis (I'm pretty sure).
After practice, I found myself unusually energetic. It may have been the beautiful cool weather, or the fact that I had an evening free, but I called up a good friend, Brandy, to go on a bike ride. I might mention that this is the first year that I have had a bicycle here at BSU, much less the experience needed to ride in a highly populated area. However, I maintain that this was not my fault.......continuing on. After riding a few blocks, we came to "Frat Row". The fraternity houses that line the street are most definately more disgusting than a dumpster in the middle the Bronx, so you can imagine those who live inside them.
I was coming to a driveway on my bike, when a car came to the end of the driveway. I'm pretty sure that the driver looked my way before I reached his drive, but he was waiting on traffic coming from the opposite direction. Seeing that I had the right of way, I continued across the drive, at the same time that he began to pull out of the driveway. Upon seeing his car move towards me in a menacing fashion, I did what any other bicyclist would have done. I screamed bloody hell. The driver realized that his vehicle was in the process of colliding with flesh and bone, and slammed on the brakes, but not before lodging my shin between the car and my bike. After regaining my balance, I moved out of the way of the car and examined myself and the bike to see if there were damages. I later found a couple of scrapes (abrasions, in the athletic training world) on my leg, but no serious injuries.
The man in the car rolled his window down and asked if I was alright. I replied that I was fine, but immediately after, sirens began to wail in the distance. I, being the smartass I am, said "Oh no, the police are coming to get you!" I mean, come on, I was just trying to lighten the mood. Apparently, he didn't appreciate it because the look on his face showed an expression of terror, similar to that of a 90 lb kid going up against a defensive lineman. After asking one more time if I was okay, he rolled his window up and rove off into the distance.
Brandy and I, never to be deterred from a bike ride, continued on.