Let's take a little trip back to the late eighties, there I am in my 'Don Johnson' jacket, pant legs rolled tight against my ankle just peddling my fat ass around the neighborhood. Miami Vice had the fashion industry by the balls and movies like "Gleaming the cube" had every adolesent boy kickflippin' and Tail-sliding all over town. I liked skateboarding but I was definitly not built for it. I was 'husky'. I made a consicous desission to leave the skating to the skinny kids. I choose a mode of transport that could better accomidate my 'Huskiness', the bicycle.
My dad was the king of random projects. He would find broken stuff at yard sales and fix it. He loved working on cars and was always trying to teach me the ropes so he found an old go-cart and told me to fix it.
He and I worked on it for a couple of weeks and we were so close to finished. All we needed to get it up and running was a 3 inch section of rubber tubing. No problem, there's a place up the street that sells the stuff and it'll cost a buck if the guy charges me anything me at all. I hop on the bike and start peddling. I'm so excited to get the go-cart fixed I don't even put on my new beach loafers (they matched the electric blue jacket). I was only going a couple of blocks anyway.
I get to the store and the guy behind the counter says that he hasn't got any tubing but there's a place that might up on Hawthorne Blvd. The place the guy was talking about was at least a hour ride just to get there. No matter, the part had to be obtained at all cost.
I made it all the way up to this store only to find out that they had no such rubber tubing but they knew someone, blah blah blah.It was time to cut my losses. I needed to get home and regroup. So I start riding back home along the same hot streets that brought me to this disappointing end.
As I mentioned before, my dad love to fix things and one of the things he had done for me was make me a custom bike. Canary yellow with an old car shock in the center. It weighed a ton but it was built like a tank and nobody at that time had shocks on there bike. (Unfortunately dad didn't cash in on that idea)
The nice thing about having a bike that big and having that one shock to absorb stuff is that I could really haul ass on that thing. There were down sides to having a custom bike though. Things like, no hand breaks and the chain constantly slipping off. I was a resorceful kid so I learned to do things like use my feet to stop and just put the chain back on.
I'm almost home. Seven more blocks and I can get out of this heat. It's gotten so hot that I had to tie my ultra cool blazer around my waist because it just wasn't keeping me cool enough. The faster I peddle the cooler I feel, so I'm cruisin. I'm going fast enough to feel the wind and the sweat finally starting to cool me down, when it happens... the chain. No big deal, I'll just use...my...feet. *Note to self: Always where shoes.* I can't stop because I know, at this speed the street will chew up the bottoms of my feet and I'm going faster.
Two blocks ahead is a nasty four-way intersection, right in front of the Clinton Street theatre that was advertising the same 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' that still plays there to this day. From where I'm coming from, I can't see the cars coming from one direction of the intersection. I have to make a snap desission here. I can A)Scream through intersection yelling at the top my lungs and pray that I make it through. OR B) Aim for that huge telephone pole.
If I go with 'A' I may very well get through without a scratch. But, if I don't make it there was going to be a car to deal with and I'm not wearing helmet. That could be really messy.
So I go with 'B'. I choose when and how this bike, with me on it, is going to come to a complete and very sudden stop. I brace myself for impact in Five...Four. I'm going to take it with my left shoulder because I'm right-handed, just in the case that something should break. Three...Two, I have to stay on center. If I hit too far left or too far right, I'll just send myself tailspinning through the air into the middle of the intersection and get my head run over.
One...
I'm suddenly reminded of a piece of sagely advice that dad shared. When ever we had a yard sale my job was to go around the neighborhood and put up the signs. He told me that there was no sence in using brand new nails just to hang a crappy piece of cardboard. Use the nails that are already there. Just take the cardboard and stab the rusty spike through and leave it dangling.
I'm not a yard sale sign but I know what one feels like. Everything stops; me, the bike, time and it all falls to the ground. Too my left is my custom bike. With it's chain hanging limp, the bike looked like an unconcious victim of this horrible collision. To my right is the pole. Towering over me. If I looked close enough I could see the nail up there that I had tried to dangle myself from.
Luckily the jacket was tied around my waist otherwise it too would have a bloody little hole it. I deal with pain pretty well so I shake it off, pick up my custom bike and walk it. Home.
A)? Go screaming through life, blindly, Hoping that there will be no pain?
or
B)? Recognize that pain in life is unavoidable but it can be minimized once you've accepted the fact that it won't last forever.
My dad was the king of random projects. He would find broken stuff at yard sales and fix it. He loved working on cars and was always trying to teach me the ropes so he found an old go-cart and told me to fix it.
He and I worked on it for a couple of weeks and we were so close to finished. All we needed to get it up and running was a 3 inch section of rubber tubing. No problem, there's a place up the street that sells the stuff and it'll cost a buck if the guy charges me anything me at all. I hop on the bike and start peddling. I'm so excited to get the go-cart fixed I don't even put on my new beach loafers (they matched the electric blue jacket). I was only going a couple of blocks anyway.
I get to the store and the guy behind the counter says that he hasn't got any tubing but there's a place that might up on Hawthorne Blvd. The place the guy was talking about was at least a hour ride just to get there. No matter, the part had to be obtained at all cost.
I made it all the way up to this store only to find out that they had no such rubber tubing but they knew someone, blah blah blah.It was time to cut my losses. I needed to get home and regroup. So I start riding back home along the same hot streets that brought me to this disappointing end.
As I mentioned before, my dad love to fix things and one of the things he had done for me was make me a custom bike. Canary yellow with an old car shock in the center. It weighed a ton but it was built like a tank and nobody at that time had shocks on there bike. (Unfortunately dad didn't cash in on that idea)
The nice thing about having a bike that big and having that one shock to absorb stuff is that I could really haul ass on that thing. There were down sides to having a custom bike though. Things like, no hand breaks and the chain constantly slipping off. I was a resorceful kid so I learned to do things like use my feet to stop and just put the chain back on.
I'm almost home. Seven more blocks and I can get out of this heat. It's gotten so hot that I had to tie my ultra cool blazer around my waist because it just wasn't keeping me cool enough. The faster I peddle the cooler I feel, so I'm cruisin. I'm going fast enough to feel the wind and the sweat finally starting to cool me down, when it happens... the chain. No big deal, I'll just use...my...feet. *Note to self: Always where shoes.* I can't stop because I know, at this speed the street will chew up the bottoms of my feet and I'm going faster.
Two blocks ahead is a nasty four-way intersection, right in front of the Clinton Street theatre that was advertising the same 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' that still plays there to this day. From where I'm coming from, I can't see the cars coming from one direction of the intersection. I have to make a snap desission here. I can A)Scream through intersection yelling at the top my lungs and pray that I make it through. OR B) Aim for that huge telephone pole.
If I go with 'A' I may very well get through without a scratch. But, if I don't make it there was going to be a car to deal with and I'm not wearing helmet. That could be really messy.
So I go with 'B'. I choose when and how this bike, with me on it, is going to come to a complete and very sudden stop. I brace myself for impact in Five...Four. I'm going to take it with my left shoulder because I'm right-handed, just in the case that something should break. Three...Two, I have to stay on center. If I hit too far left or too far right, I'll just send myself tailspinning through the air into the middle of the intersection and get my head run over.
One...
I'm suddenly reminded of a piece of sagely advice that dad shared. When ever we had a yard sale my job was to go around the neighborhood and put up the signs. He told me that there was no sence in using brand new nails just to hang a crappy piece of cardboard. Use the nails that are already there. Just take the cardboard and stab the rusty spike through and leave it dangling.
I'm not a yard sale sign but I know what one feels like. Everything stops; me, the bike, time and it all falls to the ground. Too my left is my custom bike. With it's chain hanging limp, the bike looked like an unconcious victim of this horrible collision. To my right is the pole. Towering over me. If I looked close enough I could see the nail up there that I had tried to dangle myself from.
Luckily the jacket was tied around my waist otherwise it too would have a bloody little hole it. I deal with pain pretty well so I shake it off, pick up my custom bike and walk it. Home.
A)? Go screaming through life, blindly, Hoping that there will be no pain?
or
B)? Recognize that pain in life is unavoidable but it can be minimized once you've accepted the fact that it won't last forever.