I should be thankful that I haven't broken that many bones in my lifetime. This was my first break, unless you count the time I fell down some stairs at my first home in Wyangala Dam where I chipped and jarred some of my teeth. But seeing I was less than one at the time and have no recollection of the event, we'll just run with this.
It was summer, or perhaps it was spring, well, let's just say it was a nice sunny day. My father was watering the yard for the neighbours, who were away on holidays at the time. I was probably five at the time, and was particularly attached to two things at the time, a tricycle (with a little tray underneath at the back) and my lucky red cap.
Anyway, I was having a great time, riding down the neighbours sloping concrete driveway as fast as I could, then coming to a sudden stop at the garage door. I don't exactly know what happened, but to this day I maintain that I was trying to do a 360, and ended up quite a few degrees short. With blood on the driveway, me screaming and a very disgruntled younger brother (who was three at the time) I was carted off for treatment. A few hours later I was heading home, with my head wrapped in bandages, and the red cap perched on top.