On May 12, 1990, I was speeding on my mountain bike down an unfamiliar mountain trail. All of a sudden, the trail veered sharply to the left while I kept going straight. I went flying over a short wooden fence down a steep mountain hillside, and rolled and tumbled like I was in a bad dream. When I finally came to a stop, I was surprised I was still conscious. My bike helmet and glasses frame were cracked, and with the awareness of sharp pain emanating from my left wrist, I feared my wrist was cracked too. After I was transported to the ER, I found out that I had a broken wrist bone and derangements of the surrounding ligaments. I needed to have surgery if I was ever to play the violin again.