By Connie Whitlock
Publishing Editor
Last week, I was driving home from church music practice at around 8:30 in the evening when I came upon three kids in the middle of a country road. I was out near Boardman, heading toward 175th and had just turned the corner at the Katy Trail parking lot. You might know what I’m talking about if you live in that area.
One kid was on what looked like some kind of motorized bike, and the other two were on scooters or bikes; I can’t really remember. The interaction went so fast.
They looked like they were having a great time dominating the roadway, kind of like a scene out of a movie. I would have thought it was a sweet sight, but instead it almost gave me a heart attack. I mean, if they were nearer the corner I just turned, even at the 20 to 25 MPH I was going, I probably would have hit them.
So, I did what apparently happens when you reach a certain age and become the random lady yelling things out her car window. I slowed down and rolled down my window.| “Where are your helmets?” I yelled, knowing that it probably wouldn’t have any effect, but you never know.
One of the boys, who looked about 10ish, answered with the confidence of a man who had carefully reviewed the statistics. “I’ve been riding for six years, and nothing has happened.” Well. Six years. I didn’t realize I was dealing with a veteran.
I told him, “It only takes one time, and you are seriously hurt, and it affects the rest of your life. And there I was, officially becoming one of those adults I probably rolled my eyes at when I was a kid.
But I’ve thought about that conversation several times since. Because technically, the kid had a point. Nothing had happened.
That’s one of the great things about being 10. Your personal historical record is fairly short, and six years without incident seems like compelling evidence that you’ve got this whole thing figured out.
Then something happened that made his comment stick with me. I have CrimeRadar on my phone, and on Aug. 31, I saw that emergency crews were called to McDonald’s on State Route 7 for a reported vehicle-versus-child incident. According to publicly available dispatch information, the child had been riding a bicycle. I don’t know if it was an e-bike, but there is a rumor that it was. But that isn’t the point, so I will continue. The child was reported alert and conscious and was transported to Cass Regional Medical Center. I think there was a nosebleed involved, but I would have to go back and read the report.
That alone probably wouldn’t have kept the event whirling around in my head, but on Aug. 8, a 7-year-old Pleasant Hill boy was struck by a vehicle while riding his bicycle on Locust Street just east of Armstrong Street.
According to the Missouri State Highway Patrol, the boy entered the path of an eastbound vehicle and was struck. The Highway Patrol classified his injuries as serious, and he was transported to Children’s Mercy Hospital. Pleasant Hill police later told KMBC his injuries were non-life-threatening.
Two kids on bikes struck by vehicles in 23 days. That doesn’t mean Pleasant Hill suddenly has a bicycle problem. Two accidents don’t make a trend, and the circumstances surrounding the two incidents were different. But it did make me think about those kids again.
“I’ve been riding for six years, and nothing has happened.” The funny thing is, I’m not sure we ever completely outgrow that logic. We just get better at disguising it.
We drive a little faster than we probably should because we’ve driven that road a thousand times. We glance down at our phones because it’ll only take a second. Maybe we don’t quite come to a complete stop because nobody is ever at that intersection anyway. We back out of a parking space assuming we saw everything the first time we looked.
Nothing happened yesterday. Nothing happened the day before. Nothing has happened in six years. Maybe the difference between being 10 and being an adult isn’t that we’ve stopped believing we’re invincible. We’ve just accumulated a lot more evidence to support our case.
Until we don’t. And maybe that’s why my little roadside conversation has stayed with me. I don’t want kids to be afraid to ride their bikes. Quite the opposite.
Some of the best parts of being a kid happen on bicycles and scooters, roaming around on a summer evening with your friends, believing you have absolutely nowhere you need to be and all night to get there. I hope kids still get to have that.
There was something almost wonderful about the absolute certainty in that boy’s answer to me. Six years. Nothing has happened. Case closed.
But there’s something a 10-year-old can’t possibly know yet that those of us who have been around a little longer do. Sometimes nothing happening doesn’t mean what we think it means.
Sometimes we were careful. Sometimes somebody else was careful. And sometimes we just got lucky. I hope that boy someday tells somebody: “I’ve been riding for 66 years, and nothing has happened.” And I hope he’s still just as confident.
Although I wouldn’t mind if, somewhere along the way, he decided that crazy lady yelling out her car window might have had a point. It only takes one time. Wear the helmet, or at least ride where cars can see you. And drivers, drive slowly past the curb by the Katy Trail Parking lot; kids on bikes think nothing will happen.


























