Share a scar
I have a scar on my right knee. I got it on Father’s Day 1998. My Dad and I were riding our bikes across a high school track–one that had that black rock/dirt mix, and I wiped out. My leg was bleeding so bad, there was blood everywhere! But of course, typical me (even at eight years old), I stubbornly refused to let my dad leave our bikes, and carry me home. He had just bought me this bike for Easter.
Side note: Instead of a shit ton of chocolate and candy for Easter, dad always got us some sort of gift, usually something that would get us active. Which, in hindsight is a pretty sneaky alternative for the candy. Good job dad.
So, I rode the whole way home (about a ten minute ride), and ‘saved’ my bike. Boy did I look like a mess when I got home. My dad’s girlfriend freaked out when she saw me and I had a bandage on my leg for weeks. Luckily nothing too deep, so no hospital trip for me.