Once, in 4th grade, a friend and I were riding our bikes near his house. We decided to race down this hill on either side of the street on the sidewalks, for whatever reason. Probably cause we were stupid 10-year-olds, also known as 10-year-olds. So anyway, we were racing, and I was winning of course, when I realize I'm in trouble. The sidewalk shifts over one unit to the right up ahead. I'm going far too fast to be able to navigate such a sharp turn, or the turbulence of going onto the grass, and I go down. I'm a little scraped up, and there's this 2-inch gash across my knee. I kept my head. I was okay otherwise, and it wasn't too bad, so I sent my scared friend back to his house to get his mom and their van, since I didn't want to walk while I was injured.
While he was gone, this old couple came walking by. They just kind of stared at me, then looked away awkwardly, since I was bleeding but not showing any signs of anxiety or fear. I guess the adrenaline of the race and the fall were keeping me going.
So anyway, they get back, and drive me to my house, since it was like 2 minutes away, so my parents can treat me. I guess my friend's mom didn't want to deal with it if she could avoid it. So, my parents clean it up. It was pretty deep, for its size, and I thought it was awesome. They put some cleaning fluid on it that fizzed or something, and it hurt. That was the first point in the event that I cried, and I'm darn proud of my restrain and levelheadedness overall. It ended up turning into a lumpy scar that we refer to as my caterpillar, since it looked a lot like one. My mom says I probably should have had stitches, but that's how it goes, I guess.
Now, I'm horribly squeamish, and would probably cry before I even saw the wound, cause I'm a big coward now too. :|