‘Miraculour’ is a word that I invented one day after accidentally making a typo when trying to type miraculous. Go to the link below and you'll be able to read my very own definition. ;)
If for some strange reason the link doesn't work then simply go to Urban dictionary and type in Miraculour. :)
Anyhow, here goes my story. (True story)
I live on a sugar cane farm in Australia with my Mum, Dad brother and sister. My brother Cameron and my Dad both have motorbikes and race monthly at a motorbike club. We have a dirt track on our property that Dad and Cameron practise racing on. I don’t like to ride the motorbike but I love to drift in our go-cart!Anyhow, here goes my story. (True story)
One day (a few months ago) Mum, Dad and my sister Celina were out. Cameron and I decided to ignore our parents rule about not using the go-cart when they are out and take the go-cart for a spin. The go-cart has a single seat, a roll cage, a broken seat belt and a space at the back where a passenger can sit (although it’s not designed for that purpose). The go-cart can reach a speed of about 50km an hour. Dad had put a bolt under the accelerator to prevent the go-cart from reaching full speed but the bolt had fallen off. I was excited to be able to drive the go-cart at full speed and not be stopped by anyone.
Cameron sat on the back and we went speeding down the grassy headland. On both sides of us was tall green sugar cane and in the distance trees and tall blue mountains made up the beautiful landscape. I was admiring the scenery as I drove and the wind in my face felt good. Something reminded me that what I was doing was dangerous so I said a quick prayer, asking God to protect Cameron and I. I was aware that any accident would potentially be fatal for Cameron where he was sitting as he had no seat belt or roll cage to protect him. After driving 2 km which only took a few minutes we reached the dirt track. The track consisted of four sharp corners and a 20 metre stretch of dirt that is commonly known as the ‘straight’.
I exercised my need for speed as much as I felt I safely could. I wasn’t hitting full speed because I didn’t want to put my brother in too much danger. I loved drifting around the corners. It gave me such an adrenalin rush and after 5 minutes I started going faster, trying to make my drifts better. It both scared and excited me whenever I rounded a corner at such an angle that it felt that we were going to roll. I had stopped considering safety and was just focusing on my control of the accelerator, breaks, and steering wheel. This did not impress Cameron at all and he asked me to stop. As Cameron dismounted the go-cart he called over his shoulder “be careful”.
The words echoed in my head for a second before I carelessly disposed the advice from my conscious.
As I took off in a cloud of dust I was filled with excitement, adrenalin and fear. Next thing I clearly heard a voice, a voice that I had heard on several occasions that I recognised as God. My Heavenly Father firmly said to me “Slow down”.
I said “Just one more lap”!
As I was speeding towards the last corner I turned a second too soon. Aware that at that speed correcting the mistake could cause an accident I held the steering wheel in place and tried to ride it out. However the sharp right handed corner appeared to suddenly freeze. Everything felt as if it were in slow motion as I felt the right front tyre hit a bump sending the go-cart air-borne. At this point I became aware of the absence of a seat belt and helmet as I was thrown out of the go-cart. I enjoyed a brief lovely view of the scenery while my mind screamed ‘this isn’t good’! Before being greeted by the grounds solid presence. In the corner of my eye I saw a less appealing sight, the go-cart suspended in the air for a second before landing on top of me.
The go-cart however, has never quite been the same...(the roll cage is a bit bent, the battery a bit damaged, and err well, it needs a bit of repairing).
If I stop the story here, it sounds quite bad doesn’t it? However I can assure you that the only injuries I received were a shattered knee cap and a few bruises.
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| My knee before the pretty bruising started |
I thank God that my injuries weren’t worse and I feel more obligated to listen to him from now on (no matter how much fun I’m having).
On another note, Dad asked me if I wanted to start riding his Kawasaki Ninja 250 today. Should I take up the offer?
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