I've never been a daredevil, but when my friend offered me a ride on his brand-new BKE, I couldn't resist. "It's like a motorcycle, only better," he promised.
We zipped through the streets, the wind whipping past us. It was exhilarating, but I couldn't shake a twinge of unease. The bike felt unstable, like it could topple over at any moment.
And then, it did. Rounding a corner too fast, we lost control. The bike skidded across the asphalt, sending us flying. I hit the ground hard, my body screaming in agony.
Lying there in the wreckage, I watched as an ambulance rushed me to the hospital. My leg was broken, my shoulder dislocated. I was lucky to be alive.
As I lay in the hospital bed, I couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. The bike was supposed to be safer than a motorcycle, but it felt anything but. It was a death trap.
After I was released, I couldn't shake the trauma of the accident. I started having nightmares, reliving that terrifying moment again and again. I became withdrawn and anxious, afraid to even leave my house.
Through therapy and the support of my friends and family, I slowly started to heal. But the physical and emotional scars of that day will stay with me forever.
I'm sharing my story not to scare anyone away from BKEs. But I want people to be aware of the risks involved. These machines may look cool, but they can be deadly.
If you're considering getting a BKE, please do your research first. Make sure you know what you're getting into. And most importantly, always wear a helmet.
The road to recovery has been long and difficult. But I'm grateful to be alive. And I'm determined to use my experience to help others avoid the same fate.