The Fear for a Friend – A True Story

While rummaging through my desk the other day, I dug up this old memoir that I wrote for English class in 8th grade. Unfortunately, this is a true story with accurate details, still lingering in my memories…

I had just come home from school, finished my homework, just finished eating dinner, and the sun was still shining brightly in the evening sky. I, a seven-year old second grader at the time, decided to ride my bike around the neighborhood on Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. There was a small park, which I called “The Pony Park” for the small bouncy horse it had, that I enjoyed riding my bike too and I usually met with my friends there, as I was to, unexpectedly, this evening.

How was I too know that it would be the most fearful night of my life?

As I sat on the cone-shaped, red roof that covered the slide in the center of the small park, I glanced at the large, stone wall that surrounded my neighborhood. I was behind the houses, right up against the wall just a little ways away from where the wall stopped. My dark brown eyes followed the wall to its stopping point and I discovered my daring friend Andy Hampton riding his bike between the two hills there. There was a road that led to Medina Air Force Base cutting between the two steep, grassy hills creating a “U” shape. Bushes grew on the left side of the hill closest to me, blocking view of the road ahead, and a forest rested on the other hill.

My friend Andy was riding his bike down one hill, across the road, up the other, and back down again. Wanting to meet up with him, I jumped down to the ground from the plastic roof with a thud and pedaled to the twin hills. I discovered that not only was Andy, my friend and classmate, there, but one of his friends that I did not know also. They greeted me, and then continued to ride between the two hills while I stayed on the sidewalk at the top of one with my bike in my hands. Andy was one of my best friends at that time and I laugh whenever I think of all of the stupid things he has done. This includes rapping, shirtless on top of a large roof that covered the picnic area of “The Lion Park,” riding his bike off of a stone cliff in my yard while trying not to hit my neighbor’s house, and trying to accomplish difficult skateboarding tricks without skinning his face off. Many of these tricks and stunts, I tried also, one which trashing my bike, but this was the worst one of all. Andy was a daredevil at heart and loved the feel of a thrill. On many occasions resulting in pain, he explained that he actually <em>liked</em> the pain and would do it again without changing a thing.

I had not been there for more than five minutes, when my life was changed very quickly. I stood atop the hill, a witness to the upcoming event. Andy Hampton mounted his bike beside me, on the hill with the tall, leafy bushes and quickly pedaled his way down for his last time. He pedaled as fast as his legs would allow him as the wind blew his short, blonde hair back. I spotted a smile on his face just before it turned to fear. Afterwards was to be the most emotional, terrifying, and heart-stopping moment for me.

Just before Andy was to cross the road and zoom up the other hill, a car emerged from the bushes. The vegetation had obstructed his view and now he was slamming on his brakes hard with no result. The gravitational pull was too strong and I watched breathlessly as he and the car collided with a sickening metal-screeching crash. It had happened so fast, I was unsure of what to do. I opened my mouth to scream, but surprisingly no sound would come.

As I came back to my senses, I dropped my bike to the ground and ran down the side of the hill to the scene of the crash. I panicked as my entire body was shaking rapidly. My heartbeat was rapid and my breathing fast and hard. I shot my eyes to my feet where Andy lied to observe the damage done. The lady that had been driving the vehicle burst from her door and immediately called 911 on her cell-phone before running to help Andy.

It looked seriously bad.

Andy was lying in a twisted position, which I thought was impossible for a person to be in. His legs were tangled and caught within the spokes of the bike wheels with some of the metal rods sticking out in every direction. I gagged as I noticed that some of the spokes were poking through his right leg. The cold metal was stained with red as blooded slowly gushed out of his legs, spreading over his shorts, bike, and the road. I remember thinking of how the doctors would be able to repair his mangled legs.

Andy’s face was red and covered in tears. He screamed in agony as the bike crushed him underneath it. He pushed with his scratched arms, but did not have the strength to throw it of off him. I felt terribly guilty for not doing anything to help and stooped to pull the bike off of him. The bike was twisted into his legs enough to where we needed tools to get it off of him. As soon as I started pulling, the woman who was standing over me yelled at me not to. I remember her voice telling me that all I could do was wait for the ambulance to arrive.

Moments later I heard sirens in the distance before the normally empty street crowded with two ambulances, three police cars, and two fire trucks. Paramedics and firemen quickly ran to Andy’s aid while policemen dragged me back to the top of the hill where my bike still lied on the ground. Tears were streaming down my face as I quietly sat and watched many people crowd around Andy.

A single cop stood with me, watching the scene alongside of me. We watched in silence as I cried in deep thought. After about twenty minutes of silent gazing, he turned to me and asked if my parents were home. I told him that they were and he asked me to run and fetch them. I quickly jumped onto my bike and sped down the sidewalk that turned down the street that I lived on. I pedaled as fast as I could before slamming my bike into my lawn and bursting through my front door. I found my parents in the living room and told them the news between gasps and tears. My mom jumped from the couch and exclaimed that she would call 911. I told them that cops and doctors were already waiting there and that they wanted me to retrieve my parents. My dad and I ran at full speed back to the horrible scene while my mom stayed home with my younger four-year old brother.

After returning to the scene I remember seeing the whole neighborhood had gathered there. Cops were now fighting to keep people away and to keep them at the top of the hill. After I had brought my father, the cop who had been with me earlier started to ask me questions. He asked what had happened and why we were here. He asked exactly what I saw and I was forced to explain this story many times. Then, his last question brought a strikingly emotional answer. He asked if there was anyone here before except Andy and me. I then remembered Andy’s other friend. He was there, and he had seen it also. I told the cop of this other person as I searched for him. Both his bike and he had disappeared. He had run away from the terrible sight…

I glanced down to the bottom of the hill with my dad. Firefighters had placed Andy and his bike on a gray mat that they had drug to the side of the road. Then they brought out large saws and starting cutting away at his bike, trying to free his legs. Paramedics were busy freeing his leg and saving blood. I was not sure what all they were doing. It frightened me when some policemen brought out some white chalk and traced around the car and where Andy had landed after the collision.

Was my friend going to live? Was he going to be all right?

I remember that the thoughts raced through my head so quickly that I barely even noticed when it was 8:30. It had been 3 hours and 30 minutes since the crash. The sun was just starting to set as some of the neighbors had returned home, however I stayed. I was to be the last person to leave the site that night. Andy was finally loaded into an ambulance, leaving his undetectable bike at the side of the road. Sirens blared as the two ambulances and two fire trucks left the scene to Wilford Hall Medical Center. The policemen remained, still questioning the woman and me. The gray mat had been left behind along with Andy’s bike. The bike was cut into many pieces and was unrecognizable. The blood still remained on the road.

Later, two policemen approached my dad and me and asked if we would see them in their police station at 9:30. We agreed and they asked if they could buy us something to drink. I just asked for water, while my dad refused. It did not feel quite right when my dad and I left the crash site and went home. A guilty feeling still lingered within me.

My parents normally invite their friend, Jill Vice to come over on weekends to play cards. I don’t mind because I play with her son, Kevin, also my age. When we came through my front door, we found Kevin and his mom there, as they had been invited before the crash. I told my friend of Andy’s crash and explained that we would return from the police station. Then my dad and I left the house once more.

We arrived at the police station at 9:30 and were greeted by the two, friendly policemen. They handed me a bottle of water and brought me to a large room with a table, chairs, and a whiteboard. I remember how the water tasted distinctly for some reason. The two cops asked me to explain the story over and over. I had just about told the story three times to everybody by now! They took notes, asked questions, and even asked me to draw a map on the white board and draw out exactly where and why Andy had crashed.

About 30 minutes later, the last question was asked and they saw my father and me to the door. They thanked us for our time and gave me a bag of M&M’s.  We left and returned to my house, when my dad made me split the M&M’s with my brother and my friend. I was exhausted and terrified!

After the terrible crash, the base built a chain link fence around the street, continuing the stone wall that surrounded the neighborhood. They also mowed and chopped down all of the leafy vegetation that grew on the side of the hill that caused Andy to not see the car traveling down the road. To my relief, my friend Andy came to school the following Monday with his foot in a cast and a bad limp. He explained that he had a boring weekend in the hospital and that he had sprained his ankle. I still think that my friend is very lucky to have escaped the collision without even breaking a bone, although he was grounded for a very long time.

I laughed to myself when Andy told the story at school, leaving out the parts where he cried and screamed, and of course throwing in that he <em>liked</em> the pain. He even said that he would do it again without changing a thing. What a guy!