That One Time I Got Run Over by My Best Friend

Let’s just get this out of the way: if you ever hear your mom’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t do anything stupid,” you should probably listen. But did we? Of course not. Because at 17, we were basically invincible and, more importantly, had a camera, a motorcycle, and a plan.

So, picture this: my best friend and I, both without motorcycle licenses (minor detail), hatch an elaborate plan to get epic sunrise shots at the beach. We spent the night before plotting like we were about to pull off a bank heist-except our loot was Instagram likes and the thrill of getting a motorcycle onto the sand without getting caught. Our moms? Blissfully unaware. Us? Buzzing with anticipation and a complete lack of common sense.

At 6 a.m., we’re at the beach, the Picos de Europa looming in the background, the Cantabrian Sea doing its thing, and us feeling like we were shooting a movie. The photos? Chef’s kiss. The adrenaline? Off the charts. The legality of it all? We’ll get back to you on that.

We got home, and immediately, the parental radar started pinging. “Why were you up so early? And where’s the bike?” We confessed. Cue the “don’t even THINK about doing that again” speech, which, in hindsight, was totally justified. But did we listen? Spoiler: absolutely not.

By sunset, we were back at it-new location, new ideas, even less supervision. The creative juices were flowing, and so was the danger. We decided to get a wild nighttime shot: one of us would ride the bike through a massive puddle, the other would snap the photo with a flash, hoping for some artsy, dramatic water spray action.

Here’s where things went off the rails. We never actually discussed how the rider would avoid the photographer after barreling through the puddle. Details, details. The engine hit the water, steam everywhere, the flash went off, and suddenly-bam! Photographer down. Rider down. Yes, you read that right: my best friend literally ran me over with a motorcycle. (We’re still friends, in case you’re wondering.)

We were a mess-scraped up, bleeding, but mostly panicking about the bike, which now refused to shift gears. The camera? Toast. The bike? Stuck in second. Us? Desperate, using rocks to kick the gear shift, limping home in the dead of night like two wounded outlaws.

We tried to hide the damage, but honestly, it was impossible. The bike was busted, the camera was soaked and broken, and we looked like we’d been through a war zone. But here’s the twist: instead of losing their minds, our parents were actually impressed by the photos. They loved how every shot came out - the colors, the motion, the whole vibe.

So, no grounding, no lectures (well, maybe just a few), just a lot of “you guys are crazy, but those pictures are amazing.” That day wasn’t just about reckless adventure; it was the start of something bigger. Our creative partnership was born in scraped knees, broken gear shifts, and a shared passion for capturing moments - no matter the chaos involved.

Moral of the story? Listen to your mom... or don’t. But if you don’t, make sure the shots are worth it.