When the Street Trips You by Patrick Carolan

Gridley Bryant Street has given me scars to today, mentally and physically. Every time I pass the seventy degree angled hill, I get shivers down my spines and no matter what I do I always seem to meet again with it.
During the hot and mucky summer of 2009, I was on my way home from the best ice cream shop in Scituate. It was about eight thirty pm, and boy was I late for dinner! I borrowed my buddies’ long board in hope I’d get home faster. Although, I had never even touched a board, I was still able to move fast than I could walk home. It was getting later by the second, and I decided to make a quick turn down Gridley Bryant Street. It was probably one of the biggest mistakes of my life, so far. So I smoothly went down the hill and picked up speed very quickly. I hadn’t put much thought into going down the hill until I was heading for a descent. A few things came to mind; one, I couldn’t ride a skate board; two, I was almost going forty miles per hour. Then three, I had no idea how to slow down, let alone stop! I was so overwhelmed with such worries that the board started shaking and I could no longer control the board. I was getting worried that I would suddenly turn unexpectaintly into a brick wall. If that happened I would have had to have been scraped off with a spatula. But my real decision was probably much worse. I decided to hop off the board and run down the hill and gradually slow myself down, but it was too late to realize my foot speed could never match forty miles per hour! The second my left foot made contact with the hard gravely pavement, I legit went head over heels. My knee was the first to land on the danger area. I could feel the moist skin get torn right off my body; it was like ripping bark off a tree. If you thought that hurt, my funny bone came next. My forehead smashed against the cool rock-hard pavement, but surprisingly I had no injury from this tragic event to my skull. Rolling over my head, my entire back skidded another twenty-five yards down the street, until I slid to a peeling halt.

My first impression was ‘I think I’m going to throw up everywhere’, but, I toughed it out and hobbled toward the cool green grass. Soon I heard my “helpful” friend cry out “Holy crabapples! What the snack is that white thing hanging out your elbow!?” I looked over to see a quick glimpse of my funny bone dangling out of my uncharted skin. After seeing that beauty I almost fainted from horror. I looked over at the evil street and cursed several times before dialing Mother Carolan’s cell phone. I felt warm juices flowing down my back and that brought more shivers down my spine. The skin of my palms had been torn off and left homeless on the treacherous street of Gridley Bryant. She finally answered on the fourth ring, “Mother? What would be appropriate reasons to call 911?” Mother Carolan raced to my location like a bloodhound on a trail. I hobbled into the beautiful bright blue Prius and we left my friends in the dust as we rushed to the ER. I looked back at my buddies just in time to see them give my funny bone a grimace. I could hear them through the glass windshield “Jeepers that’s legit was the nastiest thing I’ve probably ever seen.” I waved back at them giving them a look that said thanks for the help they didn’t give. When I realized the dark red cool blood was dripping out of the shredded muscles in my arms, I hollered at my mother “Hurry! Half of my juices are on the road Mom! I think I need the rest of it to make it to the ER!”

Even today I avoid this road at all costs because you can still see dried up blood splotches from my tripping down one of the steepest hills in Scituate.