I used to bike commute to work. I always wore my helmet, never crossed against red, and still doing everything correctly, a pickup truck hauling concrete executed an illegal right hand turn and ran me over. The hauling concrete is the punchline of my story. This was almost 8 years ago.
I remember brief details from the moment, which I don’t feel like sharing at this time. The truck crossed my chest. My parents arrived at the hospital when it was still unclear if I would survive. I sometimes find myself thinking I shouldn’t be alive. I have the kind of luck for things so unlikely, that if only the luck were angled at the lottery, I’d be a mega millions winner. But no, it’s the wrong kind of luck.
Anyway, these stupid bangles are survivors of the accident. They show a tiny bit of roadrash.
I purchased them at a boutique on Chestnut Street with a gift certificate just that weekend before. I think they cost me $15 maybe. Little nothing bangles with little nothing scars. I don’t wear them ever, and I can’t explain why I wore them today. But my other bangles are a North African bangle from the streets of NY, my dad’s Rolex, and the Hermès Astrologie from my honey.