I had just pedaled past the house of that kid who looked like a pint-sized John Cougar Mellencamp when the bat landed on my face. It was about a face-sized bat. I couldn’t see crap. To my credit, I did not freak out – much. Nor, funnily enough, did I slow down at all. Just kept one hand on the handlebars while peeling the bat off of me with the other. Little did I know at the time that this experience was to prove to be metaphorically relevant to the rest of my life. Right up to this very day.