I was never too young to get hurt on a bike, anyway. One of my earliest memories is of just that.
I say it's a memory, but it seems almost like a dream. Details are sketchy, in my mind, but the basic facts stay with me.
My mom and dad, my sister, and I were visiting some relatives, of some sort, at their house which was located somewhere other than where we lived. (How's that for details?) The house was located near a train track, and you could see the raised rail bed from the yard. In my memory, it looms over the yard like Hoover Dam.
I swear, this really happened! A lot of my early, early memories have this dream-like quality to them.
Anyway, while the grown-ups were visiting, in the house, we kids were amusing ourselves outside. One of the kids had a bike, one of the old-school paperboy bikes with a rack on the back. I had never seen a package rack on a bike before, and it fascinated me.
"Want to ride on the back?" he asked me.
Of course I did!. Soon, he was pedaling me around the yard. I was seated on the rack, and I had my feet on the chainstays, in lieu of passenger foot-pegs. Then, as we went over a couple of bumpy spots, I half-stood to keep the rack from paddling my butt.
At that point, my right foot slipped off of the chainstay, and went between the wheel and the frame of the bike. The spokes of the wheel raked the skin off of my ankle bone, before the bike skidded to a halt, with my ankle firmly wedged in place.
I can't remember how I got loose. I think Daddy was involved. However it was, I was screaming and crying and just generally acting like my foot had been sheared off.
It was all very dramatic.
I don't remember all of the details, like I said, but I sure do remember how that hurt...