Earliest Memory

I have a great deal of early memories that have amalgamated into a childhood. Most of what I remember of my earliest days were the times that I spent outdoors.
In 1975 I was 4 years old, and as most children I was prone to spending as much time at play as possible. My most vivid memory of this "playtime" can be summarized in a few sentences, but I'll try to expound upon it to make it for an interresting read.
As I rode my Big Wheel through the trailer park where we lived I remember the vibration in the handle grips caused by the choppy, uneven asphalt. My tiny legs pumping away at the foot pegs in a futile attempt to jump the speed bumps that littered the driveway and launch myself into the air. My mother would try to keep her eye on me, but I would cruise the entire length of the trailer park, even going so far as to circle around to the back side where I was always fobidden to go.
One day as I was doing my usual rounds, I stopped at the home of a girl that was much older than me and was watching her cut the small patch of grass that all of the trailers possessed. I remember the loudness of the lawn mower kept me at bay, and I stayed close to my Big Wheel that was out in the street. I don't remember the girls name anymore, but I remember her long, red hair, and the fact that she was always nice to me. She didn't speak to me at this time, but waved and acknowledged my presence.
She was nearly done with her chore when her mower stopped running. She pushed the mower up on its side to get a better look at the underside, but what I would guess to be her lack of upper body strength caused the mower to crash back to the groud right side up. As the mower hit the ground it briefly restarted, but her bare foot was underneath it. The result was that one of her toes was severed and hit me directly in the middle of the chest as the lawn mower spat it out the grass chute.
She screamed and her father ran out of the house to attend to her. I stood there for a few seconds until he told me to go home. My last vivid part of the memory is my father trying to put a positive spin on the situation by telling me that this is why I should always be careful with any tool.