I used to have this burn scar on the inside of my left calf…I am not sure when it faded or I lost track of its movement around my lower leg, but it seems totally gone now – I just looked. I must have been about 8 or 9 years old and had just graduated from a Honda 50cc to the much bigger ride – a Yamaha 80cc. A gift from Bob on my birthday, my mothers second husband…a German fellow who seemed to take some satisfaction in lining us kids up at any opportunity to deliver some corporal punishment…still, at the time it was closest thing we had to any semblance of normal family life and stability. The men of my early life all seemed to have some agenda to instill the expectation of being a ‘man’ in me…it would serve me well in many respects, in particular caring for my siblings later during harder times and honed my young survival skills…but it also taught me to never cry, show weakness or fear…and to suffer pain and hurt quietly and internally. This motorcycle was too big for me – at least it seemed so – and sure enough on my very first ride I wiped out my Yamaha 80…the bike fell pinning my bare left lower leg against the super hot engine housing. It seemed to take forever and considerable struggle to get free…the engine melted my skin and pealed away what then seemed most of the inside of my calf as I pulled it out from under the weight of the motorcycle. I don’t recall if I cried or screamed out – I am sure I must have – but in those moments following I know that I composed myself and walked that bike home, and quietly and secretly tended to my wound. On the housing of the engine where my skin had melted there remained a permanent discoloration…a constant irritating reminder of the event and the weeks of suffering silently endured as the wound slowly healed. Some months later when my mother and Bob were in the process of separating/divorcing I took the Yamaha 80 out for one last ride and finding a clearing – stopped – laid the bike on its side and removed the cap to the fuel tank. Gasoline poured out and settled in soaking the ground around my birthday present…I threw a match to the gasoline soaked ground and moved further and further back as the motorcycle quickly engulfed in flames…retribution…relief…closure…satisfaction.
Photo hijacked and modified from the web, ha.
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Lawrence Lewis
“I always knew looking back on the tears would make me laugh, but I never knew looking back on the laughs would make me cry.” – Unknown
About Lawrence Lewis
I do a number of things professionally...but most of all and the true purpose of what I do through "my work" is to provide for my family, be a good husband and great father, and try to make a difference as a world citizen...I guess it's not much more complicated than that 🙂