Dear readers,

Today’s column might be a short one.

I managed to sprain every part of my body. Typing is painful. However, I will soldier on and complete this week’s column for the public good. If I can save even one other old-timer from suffering my fate, then my pain endured with each keystroke will be worth it.

My misfortune all started on a recent cold November day. My 9-year-old granddaughter, Rose, wanted to go rollerblading. Rose had already asked her sisters, parents, and grandmother. I was her last resort.

Without hesitation, I said yes. Yes is my default answer to any question posed by a granddaughter. Which is why in our family, my answer isn’t a final decision. My “yes” is always subject to being vetoed by a parent or grandma.

“I don’t care what grandpa says, the answer is still no,” is heard frequently at our house.

My answer of “Yes” to go rollerblading with Rose wasn’t met with a veto. I think both Rose and I were surprised. But those with veto power did have some questions. All the questions surrounded just how me going rollerblading with Rose could possibly work. It was pointed out that I don’t rollerblade and I was asked the question, “Just how do you plan on keeping up with Rose?”

Everyone looked surprised that I instantly had an answer. I spotted one of the children’s scooters on the back porch. “I’ll be riding a scooter,” I said. The adults with veto power questioned my ability to ride a child’s scooter, but no veto was cast. Rose and I were out the door.

We both rolled over to the people trail near Sunset Park. Rose is an experienced rollerblader and I quickly caught on to riding the scooter. With one foot on the scooter and the other pushing off, I had no problem keeping up with Rose.

Modern children’s scooters are very sturdy. Teenagers regularly do tricks on them including jumps. “Getting air” is their slang term for temporarily going airborne.

It was a brisk day and we had the trail all to ourselves. Rose was blading faster and faster. Not to be outdone, I got the little scooter going so fast that I had both feet up and coasted past Rose. I wasn’t in the lead for long. I was about to get some unplanned “air.” 

It all happened so quickly. The little front wheel on the scooter must have kicked up a rock that jammed the wheel. The front wheel stopped instantly and without notice. Those of you who paid attention in physics class are probably already laughing.

What happened next is an example of Newton’s laws of motion.  Something about an object in motion staying in motion.

The little wheel stopped but I remained in motion. The scooter handlebars with me still holding on pivoted straight forward to the pavement. The little scooter tumbled end over end with me holding on and tumbling with it. I was getting “air.” 

I landed with a thud and the scooter on top of me -- the wind knocked out of me with such force that I couldn’t breathe. All I could manage was a strange intermittent noise. If you have ever really gotten the wind knocked out of you then you know what I mean.

I had thoughts of impending doom. Like a bull rider trying to hang on for only eight seconds, it seemed like an eternity until I gasp my first breath.

The crash or my moaning was loud enough that it brought a couple out of a nearby home to check on me. I struggled to my feet, brushed myself off and determined that I had survived. The scooter seemed to be fine, so we headed back home.

After arriving back home, Rose’s rendition of the event caused everyone at the house to laugh so hard that some got the hiccups. It is always funny when someone else slips on the banana peel. 

Considering what I had been through, I didn’t really feel all that bad.  However, by the next morning, I could hardly move.

Years ago, my grade school teacher Carolyn Weintraut told my parents not to worry because sooner or later I would “grow out of it and act my age.” Maybe that time has finally come.

Then again, maybe I should just ask Santa Claus to bring me a helmet for Christmas.

See you all next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.

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