i li-i-i-ike my bi-i-i-ike
January 26, 2010, 8:34 pm
Filed under: Stuff | Tags: , , ,

it’s not like other other bikes. ghotihook reference for all you old school punk rockers out there.

i’ve had a conflicted relationship with my bikes over the years. you might wonder how one would have a conflicted relationship with 2 wheel and a frame, but it’s true. i simultaneously love and hate bikes. the film “RAD” had played non-stop on our television for weeks. a movie made in 1986 about BMX racing, and i was obsessed. i don’t remember much, except for him doing jumps in a lumber yard. and his name was ‘Cru Jones’. how tough is that? heads up, Cru Jones coming through. that, combined with the intense 80’s inspirational rock tunes, was enough to get me hooked. i asked mom and dad if i could change my name to ‘Cru Jones’, but they said no for some reason. so i settled for a BMX. someone in our church gave my parents one for us, and i fell in love. it was too tall for me, and i rode it awkwardly up and down the street again and again, nearly falling off because i was a small chap. i was sure i would be the next movie star because of my sweet BMX skills. i’m not sure what they were at the time, but i knew that i had them. a BMX god. i remember racing my brother peter through the neighborhood. i turned around to see how much i was beating him by, but didn’t see him. i was ticked, because i thought he had chickened out and left me along. i rode home thinking of the nasty things i would say to him, but got there to find out he had wiped out behind me and hit his head on the pavement. a nice gentleman gave him a ride home. i felt bad, but still insisted i had won the race, and he couldn’t use a concussion and stitches as an excuse. but then we had to move, and my parents had to sell it for $5 at our moving sale because there was no room to take it with us. i remember looking out my bedroom window at my dad in the driveway, talking to a father who was there with his kid, not much older than me. i saw them wheel the bike away, and felt as if my life had ended. and it was no small feet for me to like bikes. because before i had that one, my first experience with a bike was wiping out and spraining my ankle. i hadn’t rode a bike very much, and my oldest brother, mark, had a brilliant idea to sit on the handlebars while i pedaled. never mind the fact that i couldn’t reach the pedals. never mind the fact that i couldn’t see around his body. never mind the fact we were heading down hill, and had to make a left turn into a gravel driveway going the opposite direction. it seemed like a good idea at the time. but i wept in the driveway, and i remember my dad running outside in his underwear, trying to get my leg untangled from the spokes. ah, the memories. i recovered from that first brush with death and loved my BMX. but now it was gone.

we moved and i got another BMX, but it wasn’t quite as good. i still loved it, though. i rode to school every day and would leave it locked up in the bike rack until the final bell would sound. but one day i got sick, and mom came and picked me up. the next day, when i went to school, my bike was gone. i searched frantically, but only found the destroyed lock. a few days later, my cousin jeff was delivering papers, and he had seen my bike in the front porch of someone on his route. it was a bullies house. i remember because i was too scared to go and get it back. so i called my mom, and she took me. i was proud to be my mom’s son that day. i always am, but she tore a strip out of them. they said they just found it, but i knew they were lying. the seat had been taken off for some reason, and they insisted they didn’t have it. so i had a bike back, but no seat. my grandpa called me and said to come over, that he had an extra bike seat i could use. the problem was that it was a bike seat from an old man bicycle. the kind that i would ride now if i still rode a bicycle. in all honesty, it was way more comfortable, but it was huge, dark green, and did not suit the BMX style at all. kids made fun of me. i didn’t like my bike as much then. and one day it got stolen. i found it years later at the police station where they kept old stolen bikes. i wasn’t looking for it, but went there with a friend who had had his bike stolen as well. it just happened to be there. but it was destroyed. looked like it had been thrown off a cliff. i told them they could keep it. i didn’t care about my bike anymore.

in my first year of college, my dad got this crazy idea to do the MS bike ride. he wanted me to go, and i told him he was crazy, and he said “i know, remember that time i ran out to help you in my underwear?” but i wanted to go for my dad. i hadn’t set foot on a bike in 7 years, and i didn’t train at all. i just raised a few bucks for the MS Society and pedaled away with about 100 other people. i thought i would be fine. we were biking 67 km’s, so i don’t know what possessed me to think i would be okay. because i definitely wasn’t. i think i tore every leg muscle i had those two days, going there and back. i came back and tried to play soccer, but there would be none of that. i had fun with my dad, but i would never set foot or bum on another bike as long as i lived if i could help it.

about a year ago, i remembered my love affair i had with my BMX when i was a kid. so i went and got a new one. it lasted about a day. i rode around for 20 minutes, and took it back to the store. i couldn’t re-create the passion i had once had. the hatred was burned deep in my soul from the stolen bike, the ugly green seat and my torn quadriceps. i still look fondly at others who ride bikes and wish i had the passion. but i’m too lazy. plus, it’s winter. why am i writing about riding bikes? i’m going to go watch RAD now.

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