The Curious Incident Of A Lazy Sunday

Sundays have always been special. This is the one day that holds many different meanings to everyone. Kids sit on couches with eyes glued to the television waiting for their favourite action heroes to flash past the screen, teens spend the time panicking about how to finish their assignments on time (eventually logging on to the Internet to play), parents finally are able to breathe a sigh of relief as they are spared from the trouble of taking care of their kids even if its just for a day. Whatever it is, the bottom line is that Sundays are supposed to be a 'rest' day - a time to relax and de-stress just once every 7 days.

Yesterday was a special sunday to me.

To start off, we began the day with a trip to the saloon. Why the family has to get their hair cut at the same time has always been a mystery to me. Mom simply said, 'it saves the trouble of having to go there repeatedly.' I kept silent but deep down I went, 'huh? Trouble? What trouble? The 2 of you barely go out. A breath of fresh air even if its just a trip to the saloon will do you good.' Anyway there we were in the saloon. I had a hard time describing to mom's friend how I want my hair to be cut(small wonder. I have yet to see one who understands how I want my hair to be cut). Fortunately she showed me a book for reference and I thought I was lucky enough to be able to point out to her how I want my hair to be. I pointed to one of the pictures, she nodded her head and went about doing her job.

It did not take me long, from the way she was snipping of the lump that was my hair, to realise that she might just be misinterpreting what I want. I was sure I told her I want the sides trimmed and the front long, but when I look into the mirror, I pretty much see a round ball with eyes staring back at me. Cute. I was instantly reminded of an old acquaintance with a ball for a head and decided then that enough is enough. I had to salvage the situation. With a little manoeuvring from me, I barely escaped the potential disaster with a real cute tuft of hair on my head now. I would call it cute, the perfect example of something that is utterly ugly and distasteful but adorable. I have a vertically and shortly trimmed side with a medium length front. Cute nerd look, especially when the fringe is side-swept. Not so bad though after I got used to looking at it.

Moving on after the hair trip, we went home where dad told me to learn to ride the motorbike since I have spare time. 'Great idea'. A great start too to the second disaster of the day. As though I knew I was going to get myself into trouble, I took my mobile with me. There is a saying about how theory is very much easier than practical. Yesterday proved the statement true.

On with the story, here is how I got into an accident. I was riding the bike alone and slowly(within the complex surrounded by steel fences), still trying to adjust my speed with the discomfort of a first-timer. A few seconds on the bike and I realise the slightest rotation of my wrist is more than sufficient to cause a burst of speed and still juggling between turtle speed and break-neck speed, I came to the end of the length of the housing complex and started negotiating the bend. Just for illustrative purposes, I would describe it frame-by-frame. Just to capture the essence of the moment.=)

Frame 1(the introduction): I turned the wheel as I would a bicycle. Apparently my right hand twisted and the bike gained considerable speed. With the fence looming so menacingly close, I knew I was in deep, deep shit.

Frame 2(building the climax): I was bloody surprised and I am sure my face expression just that moment was equally priceless and worth remembering for life(wide-eyed, pale, blank look, teeth gritting). Too bad it was not captured. What was in my head then was this, 'Oh great, I am definitely fucked good.'

Frame 3(the scene immediately before the crash): I tried to do a last minute rescue, to steer the bike away. Futile. =)

Frame 4(the climax. The priceless moment. It really cannot be described): *#&$^!

Frame 5(the slope towards resolution): My left hand and the left handle was being dragged against the fence as I stuggled to control my direction.

Frame 6(the resolution): I heaved myself against the fence as a last resort and fell(I was damn desperate). For the guys who went night cycling the other time and especially CH, still remember that time you laughed over the little 'stunt' I did? You would be on the floor going mad if you had seen me skid off the bike.

Anyway that is the end of my 6-frames-worth of a movie. I got up, picked up the bike and dialled home for help because I spoilt the bike and it refuses to budge. Lucky I was within the complex and not on the road. I am sure I would be no more than a lump of squashed meat if there was a vehicle behind me.

The End.

Here I am now, with cuts and bruises on my leg and some peeled skin on my slightly sprained and still hurting left hand. Considering that my dad's employee got his hand stitched when he crashed while learning how to ride the bike, I really should consider myself lucky. The only thing I am uncomfortable about is my weak left fingers(middle and little fingers are hurt. 50% of 4 fingers?) that kind of sidelined me from playing the guitar. Ouch.

Thinking about what happened to me yesterday, I was reminded of the ten or eleven year old boy who was riding a bike when I was learning how to drive the car the other day. Tsktsktsk. I really have to bow down and salute to that kid. Bravo for him. It reminds me how we learn to be afraid to make mistakes as we grow up and that might just be what impedes us from learning new things.

Cheers~
=)