One day back when I was ten or eleven, I was dirt-biking in Prospect Park with a friend. We were racing around the hills that border the Long Meadow, and coming around a tree, I ran right over a little girl who was playing near her parents. I'm pretty sure I broke her arm. Her father sprinted over and started screaming, and I was so scared that I jumped right back on my bike and rode straight out of the park. I didn't tell anyone what happened, and of course, I felt guilty about the whole thing for years.