Mood:  bright

Here I am, getting older, and finally the scares on my knees from my horrific accident in the summer of 1986 have faded to the point they are hardly visible. It's only been twenty-four years!

It was summer of 1986 and we lived on Campbell Drive one block east of Centinella, two blocks south of Washington Blvd. I had decided to take a computer class at Venice High School (VHS) between my 8^th and 9^th grade years to learn something about these new gadgets. Hearing that VHS had an Apple iic computer lab, I thought it would be cool to get to play on computers. Computers were still new, and we, of course, couldn't afford one. One family we knew had a Commodore 64 (the Barco family) and they brought it to our house once and it seemed neat. So, when the summer school schedule came out for July 1986, I jumped on the opportunity to take the computer class.

To get to VHS, I had to ride my bike to the high school, which wasn't that far, but I had to cross several major intersections of traffic, right during morning rush hour traffic. I remember it was a particularly warm morning and I was wearing my blue Bermuda shorts to school. I hopped on my beach crusher and took off for school. At the intersection where Washington Blvd breaks into Washington Blvd and Washington Ave, I always had the most difficulty getting across the intersection before the light changed. Here at this corner was a hamburger stand called Gooey Louie's (yes, I named the hamburger at my fantasy restaurant after this place) and a large car wash. The curbs there are very high, and the sidewalks relatively narrow. At this point in time there was no way you could ride your bike on the sidewalk and make it off the curb to cross the street, so I had to ride in the street with the flow of traffic.

As the light turned green and I crossed Washington Ave to go down Zanja Ave towards VHS, I hear this voice yelling at me in Spanish. I didn't know what the voice was saying completely, I understood some of the words - mostly offensive ones, but it was calling to me in a taunting tone and was accompanied by whistles and an English word I understood, "Baby". Looking over my shoulder, I saw three Hispanic looking guys in a relatively beat up white pick-up truck. The truck was carrying gardening equipment, for I could clearly see a lawnmower, and a trimmer in the back of the pick-up. One of the guys was hanging out of the passenger window. He was the one yelling at me, whistling and making kissy noises at me. I tried to ignore the catcalls and continue riding on to school, but then I was grabbed.

Yep, the guy hanging out the window kind of grabbed/slapped at my butt and laughed. That threw me off balance and pushed me off my bike seat, my feet coming off the pedals. As I had a female's beach cruiser, there was no bar, and so I slipped off the seat and slammed my crotch down on the bar right above the pedals, my knees hit the asphalt and dragged a little. The pick-up then hit me on the front tire, and I flipped over.

The front tire of my bike was warped, and I was laying on the street, my bike still around me and bleeding. Did anyone stop? No. The guys in the truck took off and left me there bleeding. After a little bit, I picked myself up and dragged my bike and myself to school. By the time I made it to school, class had started and the campus was ‘empty' looking. I went to the office with my bike in tow and blood oozing down my knees. When I opened the office door and dragged myself and my bike into the office, the staff kind of freaked out. My mother was doing a daycare business out of our house at the time and couldn't leave to come get me. My dad was at work and couldn't be reached (way before cell phones). So, my mother called my uncle Albert who came and got me and my bike in his truck.

That was a scary situation but I got over it. It certainly made me very angry at catcalling, whistling guys, something I keep in me to this very day.

I've only ever been in one car accident in which I was driving. It was December 17, 1993 and I had stayed home from work because I was sick, yet it was a Friday, and thus a payday. Really needing the paycheck, I decided to go pick it up from the main office of Talent Tree Temp Services in Sherman Oaks. The sun was setting and I was on the way home cruising down Ventura Blvd. I turned onto White Oak, and then got into the left turn lane so I could turn left on to Burbank, all two blocks from my house. I was in the left turn lane and the light went from green to yellow, and then to red. As it turned to red, I turned left. I was stuck by a chick in a jeep that ran the red light. She was going over 50 miles per hour in a 30 mile per hour zone. Thank goodness I was driving a 1979 Volvo sedan and wearing my seatbelt. Volvo's back then were actually made of metal, and were super sturdy.  My car was totaled, but I was basically uninjured. I was sore from the accident where the seatbelt bruised me on my neck, shoulder and chest.

Her family tried to sue me, but when her father the lawyer called I told him that I was a poor college student with no car insurance, living paycheck to paycheck, making less than $700 a month. I told him to try and get blood from a stone! It was totally her fault, but because I was the one turning left, the police said it was my fault, even with witnesses right there telling them that the light was red. I sat there on the curb and listened to the witnesses telling the cops that I was turning and the light was red, and that the jeep totally ran the red. Oh, well. That was my first and last car accident.