My minivan kicked my ass

I have an uncanny knack for getting hurt.  Not the way, you’d think though.  I rode sportbikes for years (Honda CBR600’s are my favorites) and never crashed (knock on wood, though many would mockingly say I never went fast enough to crash).  I can hurtle down a hill on my Cannondale road bike at 40+mph and I’m fine.  But ask me to open a door and I might end up at the emergency room.

 

For example, I broke 3 ribs cliff jumping in Xel-Ha Cancun (a fantastic place to visit).  Cliff jumping injury, that makes sense, right?  No, I got hurt after jumping, while SITTING.  I climbed up some slippery steps to get to the top and the girl that was going to jump before me chickened out.  So I step back, let her go back and I jump 25 feet into the water.  I went back over to the steps to put my snorkeling stuff back on and I hear screams as the same girl comes falling down the steps on her butt, headed right for me.  I could’ve jumped out of the way and let her smack the side of the cliff and railing, but I let her hit into me.  She said sorry, and swam away…I immediately noticed I couldn’t breathe.  3 broken ribs on my honeymoon, fantastic!  Medical care in Mexico is the last thing I want, so I just dealt with it until I got back.

 

My favorite story though, is when my minivan kicked my ass.  Yep, you read that right.  We had a Dodge Grand Caravan with the auto-opening rear hatch door; you just press the button twice and it opens or closes by itself.  It was the middle of December, I had just bought a stroller and thrown the box in the back of the van.  I was manually closing the rear door, pushing down with my right hand, and I must have double-clicked the remote with my left hand because the motor kicked in on the door, reversing my efforts with great authority.  The door came straight up HARD and caught me under the chin, literally lifting me off my feet, sending me airborne and landing me flat on my back, where I smacked the back of my head on the pavement.  I have no idea how long I was knocked out, but when I came to I was hurting.  I drove home and was apparently speaking incoherently enough that my lovely wife thought I should go to the ER.  Telling this story to multiple doctors and nurses netted me X-rays, an MRI, a hefty bill…and a concussion diagnosis.  I traded the minivan in the next year because I flinched every time I closed the rear door!

 

Interestingly, when your minivan kicks your ass the medical bills go on your car insurance.  Who knew?