Prove Life Wrong: Broken Ribs, Unbroken Spirit

UPDATE: October 20, 2025

I’m back home and resting.  I never thought I would say this, but the hospital staff at Baylor Scott White were amazing. Thet truly tried to make sure I was as comfortable as can be considering the situation. 

TL;DR: I’ve broken 3 ribs and punctured a lung. I’m sitting in the trauma center at the hospital waiting to determine what’s next.

At about 2:45 AM this morning, I did what I normally do. I rode my 2020 Vespa Sei Giorni up to the local Denny’s where I have coffee and strategize my day. It’s a small ritual I’ve built into my routine — a quiet space where I plan out the things I want to accomplish before the sun comes up.

Along the way, there’s a stretch of road I know all too well. The right lane is bumpy and full of potholes, while the left lane is in much better shape. There’s even a little seam between the two lanes — uneven asphalt that’s easy to catch if you’re not careful. My wife and I have traveled this road for years, and we always avoid the right side.

So, like I always do, when the road opened to two lanes, I moved left.

Except this time — this one single time — I didn’t get over when I wanted. As I moved across, my tires caught in that seam between the lanes, and in an instant I went down.

It felt like something out of Final Destination. I’ve ridden that stretch a thousand times, always with the thought in the back of my head: what if? What if I hit it wrong? What if I lost balance there? And this morning, I found out.

As I watched my bike slide out from underneath me and felt myself hit the ground, I started rolling. In that split second, my brain went to Eddie Murphy’s Delirious — “Oh lawd! I’m fallin’ down the stairs!”

…But no, that wasn’t me. What actually came out of my mouth was a string of unrepeatable curses that would’ve made a sailor blush.

When I finally stopped rolling, I ended up flat on my back. For a moment or two, I just lay there, staring up, trying to process what had just happened. I realized one simple truth: I was alive. In pain, but alive.

My next immediate thought wasn’t about the bike, or even the damage. It was simple: “I need to get out of the road before I get run over.”

So I tried to roll to the left.
“NOPE!” my body said.

Alright, then to the right.
“MAYBE.”

Through the haze, I spotted my Vespa about 50 feet ahead on the right side of the street. Somehow, I managed to hobble in that direction. Every step told me something more was wrong — especially with my left leg. I couldn’t put much pressure on it at all.

I pulled out my phone and called my wife. The connection was bad, so I quickly texted her: “I had a wreck.” I gave her a rough idea of where I was, then prepared to call 911 myself.

That’s when I noticed something that honestly stunned me. Not one, not two, but several cars passed right by. I was on the curb, my bike laying flat in the right lane, my helmet visor cracked — and they just kept going. “Nothing to see here, move along, move along.”

It was surreal. There I was, sprawled out, clearly in trouble, and people just… drove past.

But then, finally, a patrol car appeared. The officer slowed, turned around, and came back to provide aid. And in that moment, the weight of relief hit just as hard as the pain.

Eventually, we got my bike towed back to the house, and my wife and youngest daughter helped me make it to the hospital. They ran a CT scan and confirmed what I already suspected: three broken ribs and a punctured lung.

Because of the puncture, they decided I needed more specialized care. I was transported to another hospital where a specialist evaluated me. That’s when they inserted a tube into my chest to relieve the air pocket caused by the lung puncture.

As my wife and I sat with all of this, we both had the same thought: “Man… when can we just have a break? I mean, come on!”

It feels like every time I start to get traction, something else crashes in. I lost my job, but I poured myself back into my music and found new inspiration. I tried other things to make extra money while the job search continues — some of it even involving my bike. And now? Well, the bike’s scratched from the lineup for a while.

It’s easy to slip into that cycle of frustration, to keep shouting into the universe: “What’s next?! WHAT’S NEXT?!”

But here’s the thing — this is exactly where Prove Life Wrong comes in.

Life will keep throwing obstacles. Some are small, some are massive, and some leave you flat on your back on the pavement wondering what just happened. But the choice I have — the choice we all have — is to keep getting up. To keep pushing. To keep creating, even when everything in the world seems to be saying stop.

I’ve lost jobs, I’ve been knocked down, I’ve rolled across asphalt, and now I’ve got the scars, the tubes, and the broken ribs to prove it. But none of that gets the final say.

Because this is what it means to Prove Life Wrong:

• When everything says quit, keep going.

• When doors close, make another path.

• When pain screams loudest, let purpose answer louder.

So here I am, obstacles piling up like broken concrete in the road… and I’m still moving forward. Maybe slower for now, but forward all the same.

Broken ribs, punctured lung, scratched Vespa… but still an unbroken spirit. And the music? The stories? The dreams? They’re alive and well.

Music has always been my way of turning struggle into something meaningful. Ambient Highways was born out of a season where life had me on the ropes, and yet it became one of my proudest creations. Every note is a reminder that beauty can come from chaos, that clarity can come from pain.

So while I heal — ribs mending, lung recovering, bike parked — the music goes on. That’s the constant.

If you’ve ever needed a reminder of resilience, of finding light in the dark, I’d invite you to sit with Ambient Highways. Hold the vinyl in your hands, or stream the album wherever you listen. Because that record isn’t just music — it’s proof that life doesn’t get the last word.

Shop the Vinyl and CD here
Listen digitally herew