I was washing my motorcycle one Saturday afternoon when one of my neighbors comes over to bullshit with me.
‘What’s up my brother?” I asked.
He IS black and yes, I got his permission to call him that. J was in his mid 20’s, had 2 kids with his white girlfriend, S. She was also in her mid 20’s. She just had all her teeth pulled and I think was pregnant with their 3rd kid. Not sure so don’t quote me on that. It’s just that she always looked about 8 months pregnant. These people always walked around everywhere barefoot. J rarely wore anything but his shorts. He stands about 6ft. Big boned and probably tipping the scales at around 250. Not a slim guy, and he had a gut on him that made it so he couldn’t see how long his toenails had gotten. His back was covered with the remnants of an old war battle he was in (and lost) with his acne. Not a pretty site. He had a short afro that hadn’t seen a pick since 7th grade. (which was probably last year).
S was pushing 250 herself, but she was only about 5ft 4. Always in nothing but shorts and a t-shirt with the 2 yr old twins attached to each leg wearing only a diaper. Each diaper was carrying that child’s weight in urine and sagging to the ground like it just can’t hang on to the kids hips any longer. The boy was white as day and the girl was black as night, both with the African American afro just trying to get big. The last time either of the kids had a bath was just before the nurse handed the kids over the their mother for the last time at the hospital after they were born. (I don’t count the spray downs with the hose after the ramen noodle or mac & cheese fights).
‘Man, I’d like to get me a bike sometime. What kind of bike is that?’, J asked.
‘It’s an 1983 650CX Custom.’ I said. ‘You ever been on a bike?’ I asked
‘Oh hell ya! I use da ride on em all da time back in Texas! Hell, we’d ride all day long, ya, I been on a bike! When yer done washin yours, you ought da let me take er for a spin!’
‘I don’t think so.’ ‘Na, It’s all good man! I swear! I’m a good rider. C’mon! Been so long since I been on a bike. Just a little spin around da block. C’mon brother.’
This went on for about 20 mins. Him telling me he can ride and me declining with stuff like ‘A bikes like your woman. You don’t lend her out to anyone to ride.’ He’d respond with stuff like, ‘dude, you can take my woman on a cross country trip! Hell, I don’t care!’ ‘ya – I’m on it! – HA!’ I say. He laughs.
After another 20 mins. I’m finishing up with washing my bike. He’s begging me at this point. ‘I’m not gunna steal it man! C’mon, let me take it for a spin.’
‘Alright! Hell, just shut the hell up already! You sure you know how to ride?’
‘Nutin to it!’ he says.
I move my bike from my patio into the carport of the townhouse complex. Across the drive is another carport for the opposing townhouses. I have the bike ready for him to just pull out into the drive and said, ‘ok, you ready?’
‘Ya I’m ready!’ he says, and climbs on.
‘Dude, you should probably put some shoes on.’
‘Na, It’ll be ah-right!’ This should have been my first clue he had not actually ever drove a bike before.
‘Where’s the clutch, right here on the left handle?’
‘Ya – and the accelerator is on the right.’
‘The what?’ he says.
‘The accelerator…the GAS!’
‘Awe – ya, right, I know where that’s at, shiiit!’, he says, ‘And the shifting is done where, down here at my feet?’
At this point, I knew he was just giving me shit. He had spent the last 45 mins bragging about how good he was. Now, he’s finally got his chance to ride a bike and he don’t know where to shift at? I hoped he was just joking….
We started the bike up and he suddenly became a bit more nervous.
His girlfriend and the twins are now outside watching this and asking if I’m sure I want him to do that, and giving her comments about how incapable he is. Even as a human being. (some how, looking back, I believe every word now.)
He said, ‘now I just let the clutch out and give it a little gas, right?’
I laughed (still thinking he’s blowing smoke up my ass) and said, ‘ya – just let the clutch out and give a little gas.”
Now, this is where everything starts slowing down for me. The next 3-4 seconds of my life ends up feeling like 5 minutes or more and I am paralyzed and can’t move.
He starts off slowly. I’m imagining him pulling out into the drive between the carports and on his way. This does not happen. Instead, he pulls straight out and keeps going straight. He realizes he is not turning and panics and tries to stop, however, he don’t know where the brake is. So, to stop himself, he puts his feet down on the ground. His BARE FEET ON THE GROUND! Mind you, this bike is over 400 lbs, and is moving at this point about 10 mph, ALREADY! And he puts his bare feet on the ground to stop!
As his feet make contact with the asphalt, they immediately kick back and now the tops of his long toenails are scraping the asphalt and leaving a mark. He is now about halfway across the 30 ft wide driveway and the bike starts to wobble from his feet hitting the ground and he is starting to loose control. (like he ever had it in the first place.)
The bike has turned itself slightly, just enough to be making a b-line for the carport post on the other side. If he misses that, he has the wall of the neighbors’ patio to stop him before he runs into the cinderblock townhouse.
I see my life with my bike pass before my eyes. All the good times we had. The solitary ride up the canyons. The polar bear ride with 1,500 other riders. The Safety awareness ride with 100 other riders at the race track. The nice cool morning rides into work. Awe, the memories…
As me and his girlfriend stand side by side watching this with our jaws dropped open, he continues his ride across this driveway. The bike wobbling more now and the poles for the carport getting closer. J somehow manages to narrowly miss the first pole as he enters the carport. The second pole is dead on now. No way at his speed is he going to turn away and miss it. Even if he does, he’s hitting that wall. My bike is doomed. I’ve had my last ride on it and I didn’t even know it. It’s like eating a cookie and digging in the jar for one last cookie to savor and there’s nothing! Your taste buds explode for more and there is nothing you can do about it. I needed one last ride, and there was nothing I could do about it but sit back and watch my bike get destroyed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the brake lights came on and the back tire locked up! As the rear tire was leaving its mark on the asphalt, the front tire was approaching the pole, and fast. J managed to steer the wheel off to the right side of the pole missing it by an inch and the back tire stopped the bike just inches from the front turn signal hitting it.
He stopped! Somehow, he stopped! I could not believe my eyes. I looked over at S, and she looked at me like she was going to take him back in the house and beat the living shit out of him. I was probably giving her the same look. We both ran over to him and I shut the bike off. J was laughing and apologizing all at the same time. Admitting NOW that he had never actually drove a bike. He’d been on one once, but only as a passenger when he was about 8!
He climbed off the bike and I pulled it away from the pole. I told him he just about died, and not from nearly wrecking the bike. From me kicking his broke ass into the ground!
He apologized and I took my bike back across the drive and parked it. S and I then spent the next hour cursing him and checking out the skid mark on the ground from both the tire and his toenails. I wish I had a picture of it. His toenails actually left marks on the ground. Halfway across the drive and into the parking stalls. Not a mark on him though.
Needless to say, I never let him touch my bike again, nor did I believe ANYTHING he had to say to me. AND, I’d tell him too. Shortly after that, he left S and moved to Texas without telling anyone. Just one day, got in his car and left. 2 days later, he called S and told her he was in Texas and she can have the kids. She said, ‘Good!’ Life’s been good ever since! She says.
And I’d have to agree….
‘What’s up my brother?” I asked.
He IS black and yes, I got his permission to call him that. J was in his mid 20’s, had 2 kids with his white girlfriend, S. She was also in her mid 20’s. She just had all her teeth pulled and I think was pregnant with their 3rd kid. Not sure so don’t quote me on that. It’s just that she always looked about 8 months pregnant. These people always walked around everywhere barefoot. J rarely wore anything but his shorts. He stands about 6ft. Big boned and probably tipping the scales at around 250. Not a slim guy, and he had a gut on him that made it so he couldn’t see how long his toenails had gotten. His back was covered with the remnants of an old war battle he was in (and lost) with his acne. Not a pretty site. He had a short afro that hadn’t seen a pick since 7th grade. (which was probably last year).
S was pushing 250 herself, but she was only about 5ft 4. Always in nothing but shorts and a t-shirt with the 2 yr old twins attached to each leg wearing only a diaper. Each diaper was carrying that child’s weight in urine and sagging to the ground like it just can’t hang on to the kids hips any longer. The boy was white as day and the girl was black as night, both with the African American afro just trying to get big. The last time either of the kids had a bath was just before the nurse handed the kids over the their mother for the last time at the hospital after they were born. (I don’t count the spray downs with the hose after the ramen noodle or mac & cheese fights).
‘Man, I’d like to get me a bike sometime. What kind of bike is that?’, J asked.
‘It’s an 1983 650CX Custom.’ I said. ‘You ever been on a bike?’ I asked
‘Oh hell ya! I use da ride on em all da time back in Texas! Hell, we’d ride all day long, ya, I been on a bike! When yer done washin yours, you ought da let me take er for a spin!’
‘I don’t think so.’ ‘Na, It’s all good man! I swear! I’m a good rider. C’mon! Been so long since I been on a bike. Just a little spin around da block. C’mon brother.’
This went on for about 20 mins. Him telling me he can ride and me declining with stuff like ‘A bikes like your woman. You don’t lend her out to anyone to ride.’ He’d respond with stuff like, ‘dude, you can take my woman on a cross country trip! Hell, I don’t care!’ ‘ya – I’m on it! – HA!’ I say. He laughs.
After another 20 mins. I’m finishing up with washing my bike. He’s begging me at this point. ‘I’m not gunna steal it man! C’mon, let me take it for a spin.’
‘Alright! Hell, just shut the hell up already! You sure you know how to ride?’
‘Nutin to it!’ he says.
I move my bike from my patio into the carport of the townhouse complex. Across the drive is another carport for the opposing townhouses. I have the bike ready for him to just pull out into the drive and said, ‘ok, you ready?’
‘Ya I’m ready!’ he says, and climbs on.
‘Dude, you should probably put some shoes on.’
‘Na, It’ll be ah-right!’ This should have been my first clue he had not actually ever drove a bike before.
‘Where’s the clutch, right here on the left handle?’
‘Ya – and the accelerator is on the right.’
‘The what?’ he says.
‘The accelerator…the GAS!’
‘Awe – ya, right, I know where that’s at, shiiit!’, he says, ‘And the shifting is done where, down here at my feet?’
At this point, I knew he was just giving me shit. He had spent the last 45 mins bragging about how good he was. Now, he’s finally got his chance to ride a bike and he don’t know where to shift at? I hoped he was just joking….
We started the bike up and he suddenly became a bit more nervous.
His girlfriend and the twins are now outside watching this and asking if I’m sure I want him to do that, and giving her comments about how incapable he is. Even as a human being. (some how, looking back, I believe every word now.)
He said, ‘now I just let the clutch out and give it a little gas, right?’
I laughed (still thinking he’s blowing smoke up my ass) and said, ‘ya – just let the clutch out and give a little gas.”
Now, this is where everything starts slowing down for me. The next 3-4 seconds of my life ends up feeling like 5 minutes or more and I am paralyzed and can’t move.
He starts off slowly. I’m imagining him pulling out into the drive between the carports and on his way. This does not happen. Instead, he pulls straight out and keeps going straight. He realizes he is not turning and panics and tries to stop, however, he don’t know where the brake is. So, to stop himself, he puts his feet down on the ground. His BARE FEET ON THE GROUND! Mind you, this bike is over 400 lbs, and is moving at this point about 10 mph, ALREADY! And he puts his bare feet on the ground to stop!
As his feet make contact with the asphalt, they immediately kick back and now the tops of his long toenails are scraping the asphalt and leaving a mark. He is now about halfway across the 30 ft wide driveway and the bike starts to wobble from his feet hitting the ground and he is starting to loose control. (like he ever had it in the first place.)
The bike has turned itself slightly, just enough to be making a b-line for the carport post on the other side. If he misses that, he has the wall of the neighbors’ patio to stop him before he runs into the cinderblock townhouse.
I see my life with my bike pass before my eyes. All the good times we had. The solitary ride up the canyons. The polar bear ride with 1,500 other riders. The Safety awareness ride with 100 other riders at the race track. The nice cool morning rides into work. Awe, the memories…
As me and his girlfriend stand side by side watching this with our jaws dropped open, he continues his ride across this driveway. The bike wobbling more now and the poles for the carport getting closer. J somehow manages to narrowly miss the first pole as he enters the carport. The second pole is dead on now. No way at his speed is he going to turn away and miss it. Even if he does, he’s hitting that wall. My bike is doomed. I’ve had my last ride on it and I didn’t even know it. It’s like eating a cookie and digging in the jar for one last cookie to savor and there’s nothing! Your taste buds explode for more and there is nothing you can do about it. I needed one last ride, and there was nothing I could do about it but sit back and watch my bike get destroyed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the brake lights came on and the back tire locked up! As the rear tire was leaving its mark on the asphalt, the front tire was approaching the pole, and fast. J managed to steer the wheel off to the right side of the pole missing it by an inch and the back tire stopped the bike just inches from the front turn signal hitting it.
He stopped! Somehow, he stopped! I could not believe my eyes. I looked over at S, and she looked at me like she was going to take him back in the house and beat the living shit out of him. I was probably giving her the same look. We both ran over to him and I shut the bike off. J was laughing and apologizing all at the same time. Admitting NOW that he had never actually drove a bike. He’d been on one once, but only as a passenger when he was about 8!
He climbed off the bike and I pulled it away from the pole. I told him he just about died, and not from nearly wrecking the bike. From me kicking his broke ass into the ground!
He apologized and I took my bike back across the drive and parked it. S and I then spent the next hour cursing him and checking out the skid mark on the ground from both the tire and his toenails. I wish I had a picture of it. His toenails actually left marks on the ground. Halfway across the drive and into the parking stalls. Not a mark on him though.
Needless to say, I never let him touch my bike again, nor did I believe ANYTHING he had to say to me. AND, I’d tell him too. Shortly after that, he left S and moved to Texas without telling anyone. Just one day, got in his car and left. 2 days later, he called S and told her he was in Texas and she can have the kids. She said, ‘Good!’ Life’s been good ever since! She says.
And I’d have to agree….
