The Time I Was Run Over Twice In One Day

Yes, dear reader, you read that right. I was once run over twice in one day and this inaugural Story Time post tells the story of how I managed to do it.

So let’s start where all good stories begin…at the start. It’s the late 80s, possibly the early 90s, the summer holidays are rolling on and 6 year old Kev is very excited to hear the local ice cream van’s jingle coming down the road.

Kev, what on earth is an ice cream van?

Pretty much anyone reading this who isn’t British

That, dear reader, is an excellent question! An ice cream van is the source of much joy for the youth of the UK, and simultaneously just as much fear for their parents.

Ice cream vans drive around local areas chiming their familiar chime and enticing kids like a modern day Pied Piper, albeit in a Transit van. I’m almost certain that many metric tonnes of over-priced, poor quality ice cream is sold throughout the UK every year.

Ice cream van in UK
A typical ice cream van showcasing a very happy child and an undoubtedly distraught parent.

Anyway, back to the story. My local ice cream van jings its familiar jingle, and I run into the house at the speed of a thousand gazelles to beg my mum for the money to buy an ice cream from Dave the ice cream man.

My mum, not wanting to have a meltdown on her hands, dutifully remortgages the family home and gives me the money to buy the subject of every British 6 year old’s joy…the 99 Flake!

99 flake
The 99 Flake

Much joy ensues as my mum places what can only be described as the childhood equivalent of a month’s salary in my grubby little mitts (it was actually 72 pence) I immediately hear the frantic screams of my peers as Dave pulls up just down the street with his jingles-a-blowin’.

I rush outside without a care in the world, focussed entirely on getting my 99 Flake and devouring it as quickly as humanly possible, brain freeze be damned! I step into the road and…

BANG! I get hit by a car.

A young woman emerged from a maroon Austin Metro in floods of tears, panicking that she just killed this sausage of a 6 year old that hadn’t bothered to follow the Green Cross Code.

There’s blood, grazes and tears. But only tears for my 72p that was now festooned across the road.

How on earth was I going to get my 99 Flake now??

By this time panicked onlookers had made my mum aware that I was practically dead.

My mum came flying out of the house — in her dressing gown, with hair dye in her hair (turns out she wasn’t a natural blond, who knew) — then her and the murderous woman in the Austin Metro argued over whether my leg had fallen off, or if it was just a graze.

During this pandemonium, I drag myself to my feet like a wounded buffalo on the Serengeti and pickup my 72p. I call to Dave the ice cream man

DON’T GO, DAVE! I HAVE MY 72p!!!

6 year old Kev

I limp across the road at the speed of 0.000024 gazelles, 72p in hand, feeling victorious that I will, in fact, get my ice cream despite just being run over.

I head around the back of Dave’s van and unbeknownst to me, he had finished filling all my friends up with sugar and simultaneously bankrupting their parents.

Dave is done for the day – a good day’s takings, I’m sure he thinks. So he heads back to the driving seat and reverses out of the space he’s parked in.

Problem was, I WAS BEHIND HIS ICE CREAM VAN!

Dave ran right over me! He literally reversed over my leg, the bastard!

Unfortunately for me, an ice cream van is far larger than an Austin Metro…even a maroon one! So this one hurt. There were no grazes this time, oh goodness no.

We’re now at pandemonium x5000. My mum ceases the argument with Austin Metro Lady and comes to my aid. Dave is out the van making sure I’m ok and our neighbour is calling an ambulance. But worst of all dear reader; I still don’t have a bloody 99 Flake!

Austin Metro lady decides to make a sharp exit and was never seen again. Legend has it that she can still be seen curb crawling around the North West of England during the summer, hunting for kids to run down.

My mum is now certain that I’m seconds from death and is in hysterics. The ambulance turns up and I ask what any self-respecting 6 year old in my position would ask…

Can I have a free ice cream?

Good old Dave said I could, but the paramedic told me I couldn’t eat anything in case I needed surgery. At this point it dawned on me that there was very little chance of me getting a 99 Flake.

Devastated.

I’m taken to hospital along with my mum, her dressing gown and hair dye. It transpires that I had a broken tibia (shin bone) and multiple fractures to my foot. It also turned out that I didn’t need surgery after all, so I could have had the free ice cream. Bloody paramedic!

Lucky for me, the next time Dave the ice cream man came to our street, he made a special stop at our house to give me a free 99 Flake. It even had a second Flake in it and extra sauce.

VICTORY!

Fast forward a couple of months and I was fighting fit with a healed leg, ready and raring to run out in front of the next car. Which, as luck would have it, didn’t happen for a few more years.

So the moral of the story is, folks; if you want an ice cream, make sure you look where you’re going before crossing the road. Oh, and don’t step behind a large moving van, especially if you’re dazed and confused from already being run over.


I hope you enjoyed this story. I’m sad to say that I really am this stupid, and it’s true. There’s plenty more where this story came from, so if you enjoyed it, please do reply to let me know and I’ll be sure to continue writing these.

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