I Should be dead! But I’m Still Here!

The summer of 1969 was a turbulent time in America. Anti-war demonstrations tore the nation apart. A zillion hippies converged in Woodstock New York for the biggest rock festival of all time. Through the static of NASA’s communication system, we heard Neal Armstrong speak the immortal words from the surface of the moon, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”.
But the thing that I remember most about the summer of 1969 was the thing that happened to me.
I grew up in Manhattan Beach, California. It was a little paradise in the middle of the endless urban sprawl of Southern California, Los Angeles County. The Beach was 12 Blocks from our house. The Church was a block and a half away. All the schools were within walking distance. But we used our bikes to get around. It was much faster and convenient.
My bike was a red Sears three speed. It was my faithful companion. Wherever I went, it went. We were almost always together. There were a few quirks about it, but I didn’t mind. I loved that bike, and since love is blind, I overlooked its little flaws.
For example, the left brake didn’t work because the cable was broken. I still had the right brake however. It worked, well, most of the time. You see, the brake cable was very loose. The cable was threaded through a little donut shaped fitting which was attached to the brake caliper. The cable then was connected to the brake handle also secured by the Brake Caliper. As the Brake handle was pulled, the cable retracted and clamped the brake pads against the wheel at the other end to stop the bike. This exact same system is still used on all handbrakes today.
Because the cable was loose, the donut shaped fitting would flop around and wiggle its way out of its proper resting place, disconnecting the cable from the caliper all together. When that happened, I had to reach down with my other hand, grab the dangling brake cable, insert it back into the caliper and then squeeze the brake handle to hold it in its proper position.
The gear shifter was also little funky. You had to fiddle with it to get it to work right. It was more than just a science, it became an art.
Each day was filled with excitement. Our routine went like this:

Arise at 7:00 AM.
Eat a bowl of serial for breakfast.
Ride my bike to my best friend Mike Hoag’s House.
With him sitting on the seat and me standing on the peddles, ride together to Foster A. Begg Junior High School for summer science camp.

The last leg of the journey was the fun part. All the kids would wait at the top of Peck Avenue at the corner of eleventh street. There, atop the steepest hill in the city we would stare down at the ominous intersection below. It was Manhattan Beach Blvd. Two lanes going east bound, two lanes going west bound and a turning lane in the middle.
It was at this location where we would just wait for the light to turn green. And when it did, that’s where all the fun began. A dozen kids on bikes would fly down the hill at speeds up to 40 MPH, shooting through the intersection and coast for a quarter mile all the way into the school grounds.
We would then spend the day playing with tadpoles at pollywog park, shooting off rockets, and other fun things akin to science camp. The classes were over at noon. Then we would make our way back down Peck Ave. towards home. We would always stop at the Spanish style house on the corner of sixth and peck. There we would sit on the adobe brick wall surrounding the home, reach up and pluck the juicy ripe peaches off the overhanging branches. These were the most delicious peaches I have ever tasted. With each bite, peach juice would gush into your face. Sucking your breath inward as you bit down would create that slurping sound in an attempt to keep the juice from running all over the place. But to no avail. It would still run down your forearm and drip off your elbow. When we had our fill, we would then go home, change into our swim suits and ride to the beach. For the rest of the afternoon, we would body surf, ride the serf matt, and just lay out and work on that perfect Southern California golden tan.
On one occasion, I woke up and began to execute the usual procedure. I picked up Mike at his house and we rode down peck Ave. to the top of the hill. There were about eight of us standing over our bikes poised for the traffic light to turn green. Mike was over talking to someone else when the light turned GREEN.
All the kids pushed off and went down the hill. I was waiting for Mike, but he didn’t realize the light has turned green. I yelled to him, “Mike!, C’mon, lets go, the light is green!” He trotted over to my bike in that awkward strut of his. I felt him plop down on the seat behind me and wrap his arms around my sides. I pushed off and stood up the peddles..
Quickly, I looked down the street at the intersection.
THE LIGHT WAS YELLOW!. I made an executive decision. We have to stop and wait for the next light. I squeezed my right brake handle.…..nothing happened. I looked down at my brake, and there it was, my only brake cable, just hanging there! It had come apart from the caliper. By this time the yellow light had turned RED.
I looked up and saw that the cars were already pulling into the intersection. The adrenalin was cruising through my veins at such an incredible rate of speed that it seemed as if everything began to move in S-L-OOOOO-W M-OOO-TIOOOOO-N.
Realizing that we were about to die, my auto-defense system kicked into full operation. I searched everywhere to find a way out. The following internal dialogue raced through my head at lightning speed.
“Is there any way I could reach down and fix the brake with my other hand?” “No, I’m going too fast”.
“Scanning for an out……Scanning for an out.
Looking over to the left, “there is a driveway over there, if I turn sharp enough, I might make the drive way………..Too late”.
Scanning for an out……scanning for an out.
“There is a row of hedges over there. I could crash into the row of hedges. We would get hurt, but at least we’ll live”. “Too late”.
Scanning for an out…..scanning for an out.
“There’s only one thing left to do……
“LOOK OOOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Wham! I hit the intersection. Cars were skidding and squelching. Twisting and turning all over the place. I leaned hard to the right to avoid the east bound vehicles. I could hear Mike screaming at the top of his lungs behind me, “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”. Half way through the intersection, I cut back hard to the left to avoid a milk truck going west bound. He slammed on his brakes skidding to a stop. My pant leg brushed the corner of his front bumper as I continued in front of the truck. As I went by, I heard ALL the milk bottles inside the truck lunging forward inside their wire crates. The eerie crinkling noise as the glass rattled against the metal will forever be forged in my memory. My senses were elevated to a heightened state awareness. The car on the other side of the milk truck couldn’t see us, it flew by in front of us, and we proceeded through the intersection just behind it and out the other side.
Instinctively, with my left foot on one peddle, I rammed my right foot into the asphalt toe first as hard as I could and drug it for a couple hundred yards until we finally came to a stop.
Mike got off the bike……I got off the bike. I looked at him…….He looked at me. Neither of us said a word.
I looked down at my shoe. I had filed one whole side of it completely down to nothing. They were brand new Van canvas shoes.
We walked the bike the rest of the way to school. We didn’t want anything more to do with it.
Later on that afternoon, and for several days after that, I would find myself sitting on my bed in the bedroom staring off into space and saying to myself, “I’m still here…..………… I’m still here…………..…… I should be dead, but I’m still here”.
Several days later, My mom came into my bedroom. Placing her hands on her hips in an authoritarian position she demanded, “What did you do to your shoe?
I was prepared with an answer. “I accidentally sanded it down with the power sander while preparing the deck in the back yard to be painted”. That was the family project that we were working on at the time. The expression on her face needed no interpretation.
I figured, there are some things moms are better off not knowing.
I don’t know why my life was spared on that occasion. I can only think it was because the Lord was watching over me and allowed me to escape unharmed for reasons known only to him.
Just prior to Martyrdom of the prophet Joseph Smith, he delivered a sermon at the funeral of Ephraim Marks, and said, “Some have supposed that brother Joseph could not die; but this is a mistake: It is true that there have been times when I have had the promise of my life to accomplish such and such things, but, having now accomplished those things, I have not at present any lease on my life. I am as liable to die as other men”. (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 216).
Those of us who are disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ have a great work to accomplish in this life still ahead of us. We know that he is “preserving you day to day, by lending you breath”. (Mosiah 2:21) Each moment of each day is a precious gift from God not to be squandered. As a child of God, make each day count for something great. Make miracles happen. Make the very best choices placed before you so that when your mortal journey is over and you stand before the Savior to report on your mission, he can say to you:

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
(Matthew 25:21)

I share Nephi’s sentiments when he exclaims “O how great the goodness of our God”, and “How great the plan of our God” (2 Nephi chapter 9). Each person’s life is part of this great plan of our heavenly fathers. I take both comfort and encour