I almost never think about the small scar behind my ear -- the only exterior residue from the accident in 1982. The scar is so insignificant compared to the intense nerve pain that has traveled up and down my legs for almost ten years.

I remember seeing the wheels of the ongoing cars as my head skidded on Grove St. after the kid in the station wagon ran into my motorbike. I remember that a man on the sidewalk told me that they thought I was dead, and that while I lay there unconscious for several minutes, nobody had stopped the rush hour traffic.

For months afterward, when I looked in the mirror, I thought I was seeing a ghost.




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