Hmmmmmmmm, the relevance. None, I guess. Thinking back on our few and limited vacations- my father never had patience for such trivial stuff, my parents rode their bikes to Beekbergen where we were going to camp. I was in the front of my mothers bike. I was only four. I loved the feeling of the freeness and the wind blowing in your face. My mom always put my hair in a beautiful ponytail with a wonderful bow to accent it.
It was the perfect day for bike riding. Actually, at that time it was always the perfect day for bike riding since it was the only means of personal transportation.
Not too far from our destination, my parents crossed some railroad tracks. And suddenly I found myself spiraling into nowhere land. It hurt, and the blood seemed to make the incident worse. My mom's front wheel was trapped into the tracks. I was catapult forward from my front row seat. Honestly, I don't remember much about the actual incident, but the memory will always be ingrained in my face. Thus a lasting scar in my eyebrow to bring back those warm cozy days. I need to look in the mirror more often.
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