Ok so When I did this the first time I later remembered...I bought a new Mustang and went off a cliff on the way home from the dealer, I went off a cliff on a Harley but I wasn't driving that time...and I got side swiped by a F150 Ford truck while riding MY Harley on a narrow country road and miracously landed on my feet!
I once rode that same Harley from CA to NYC via Montana and back through New Orleans and the worst thing that happened was a few bugs in the face. Yet, Within 15 minutes of arriving home from that trip I lite a firework which traveled up my shirt exploded three times before exiting leaving third degree charcoal burns on my chest.. I beleave This Kat has more then nine lives!
ok this is what I wrote FIRST!!!
ReplyDeleteThey call me Krash.........Quite Rightly
When I was in second grade in 1966, I cut the end of my pinky finger off in a bicycle crash. The doctor told my mother if I had been a boy he wouldn’t attempt to sew it back on. He didn’t think it would take. That is the difference in man and science in only a short 45 years. The finger looks great. Because I was a little girl an emergency room doctor made a decision that left me whole.
When I was in fourth grade while playing Hid-n-seek I broke bones in my foot and needed a cast. In those days doctors didn’t have fiberglass. It was plaster and went from my toes to my knee. I broke the cast.
I will never forget the doc telling my mom that if it didn’t hurt me I could forgo another cast. I lied. My mother made me walk around the room once and I jumped back on the gurney and lied. She tapped my bare tan knee and asked me “Are you sure baby girl? It doesn’t hurt?” I lied! I was not going to get another cast on my leg to hinder my play.
In fifth grade I needed stitches. In sixth grade, I was twelve years old my father bought me a three speed bicycle with hand brakes. While trying to keep up with the boys I hit my front brakes to avoid collision with a car. I skid on my face and chipped my front teeth. They came back to pick me up and wipe back the blood. Lather that year I got stitches again caused by a dog bite.
As a teenager I always had a spirit for adventure, I was one of very few females who loved motorcycles, crashed dirt bikes and drove as fast and free as I could.
I have been side swiped by an F 150 while on my Harley and landed on my feet.*
I have hit a center divider and flew over the handle bars head over heels. Scaring my helmet but saving my life.*
I fell backwards into a pit of fire suffering third degree burns on ass and hands. *
I light a firework and it somehow it went up under my shirt and exploded leaving a string of scars from belly button to chest.*
I went through a “no-climb” fence, that is a fence constructed if 8 gauge wire wielded into 3” x 2” squares and stretched between steel t-posts, on my motorcycle and LIVED.
A hatchet got my pointy finger A causing a skin graft and a can of tomato soup got my thumb over 40 stitches on one hand alone.
* indicates stoies yet to be told....
Posted by rydnkitty at 2:39 PM
ok this is what I wrote FIRST!!!
ReplyDeleteThey call me Krash.........Quite Rightly
When I was in second grade in 1966, I cut the end of my pinky finger off in a bicycle crash. The doctor told my mother if I had been a boy he wouldn’t attempt to sew it back on. He didn’t think it would take. That is the difference in man and science in only a short 45 years. The finger looks great. Because I was a little girl an emergency room doctor made a decision that left me whole.
When I was in fourth grade while playing Hid-n-seek I broke bones in my foot and needed a cast. In those days doctors didn’t have fiberglass. It was plaster and went from my toes to my knee. I broke the cast.
I will never forget the doc telling my mom that if it didn’t hurt me I could forgo another cast. I lied. My mother made me walk around the room once and I jumped back on the gurney and lied. She tapped my bare tan knee and asked me “Are you sure baby girl? It doesn’t hurt?” I lied! I was not going to get another cast on my leg to hinder my play.
In fifth grade I needed stitches. In sixth grade, I was twelve years old my father bought me a three speed bicycle with hand brakes. While trying to keep up with the boys I hit my front brakes to avoid collision with a car. I skid on my face and chipped my front teeth. They came back to pick me up and wipe back the blood. Lather that year I got stitches again caused by a dog bite.
As a teenager I always had a spirit for adventure, I was one of very few females who loved motorcycles, crashed dirt bikes and drove as fast and free as I could.
I have been side swiped by an F 150 while on my Harley and landed on my feet.*
I have hit a center divider and flew over the handle bars head over heels. Scaring my helmet but saving my life.*
I fell backwards into a pit of fire suffering third degree burns on ass and hands. *
I light a firework and it somehow it went up under my shirt and exploded leaving a string of scars from belly button to chest.*
I went through a “no-climb” fence, that is a fence constructed if 8 gauge wire wielded into 3” x 2” squares and stretched between steel t-posts, on my motorcycle and LIVED.
A hatchet got my pointy finger A causing a skin graft and a can of tomato soup got my thumb over 40 stitches on one hand alone.
* indicates stoies yet to be told....
Posted by rydnkitty at 2:39 PM