My 17th Birthday Went Out with a Bang, Literally

It ended with a car accident

Birthdays are fun, especially if one involves a car accident and no one dies from it. It makes a special story to tell for the years to come. (Image by Polina Tankilevitch from Pexels. Edited by the author with Canva)

The number 17 held a special place in my heart. Perhaps it was because it was the last year of high school. It held unending promises. Life’s mysteries yet to unfold. Love was waiting at the next corner to be found. We were encased in eternal golden sunlight.

The day I turned 17, I found myself in a black sleeveless top, yellow skinny jeans. Yes, yellow skinny jeans, in a small town. I don’t know what I was thinking. We held a party in my best friend’s family’s second residency, an unoccupied house. We played the usual innocent birthday party games in the 90s in Malaysia. There was no need for alcohol, we were drunk with youth. There was laughter, presents, and plenty of awkwardness between young boys and young girls who identified themselves to be young men and young women.

A girl couldn’t make it to my birthday party, so after the party was finished, I decided to bring some cake to her house. My other best friend rode on the back of my little motorbike.

We cruised down the main road of the town. When it came to the turn I needed to take, I looked both ways, decided it was safe, and did the right turn. As I was crossing the road, my best friend on my back told me in a somewhat calm voice, “Hey, a car is coming…”