Tony’s Bike

Tony’s bike

We were free range children out for a ride on a summer day. For some reason I was riding Tony’s bike that day. We found a trail that took us up a small mountain near the road we were riding on. When the trail got too steep we pushed our bikes up the trail to what seemed like a good starting point. “Who’s going first?” Nobody spoke. One of the guys pointed up to a higher (almost suicidal) point of the trail. “How about up there? “ Everyone looked at me to see if I would answer the challenge. I had an earned reputation for what 12 year olds view as courage and adults view as recklessness. I  agreed automatically, almost as though I had no choice to go first (and last as it turned out). Sadly, not one guy looked at the guy who suggested the starting point. Everyone cautiously rode down the trail to the road to watch the show (which in hindsight should have given me a clue that maybe I should reconsider). As I rolled down the trail picking up alarming speed, what originally seemed like an alright idea suddenly seemed a little crazy. I came to an almost 90 degree right hand turn. I knew I had to make a quick decision. If I tried to turn at the speed I was going I would have gone off the cliff sideways or backwards. I knew I was going too fast to turn so I pointed the handle bars straight off the trail and into the air. At that point I would have given 3 months paper route money for a parachute to at least slow the descent. I think I had enough time for maybe one “act of contrition” prayer (short version) before I would  hit the flat, unforgiving pavement below. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car coming down the road. I knew that if the driver didn’t stop I would land on the roof (or worse, the windshield) which would certainly spoil her day. Thankfully one of my friends witnessing the event shouted for her to stop. I remember making eye contact thorough the windshield before I landed flat on the road ahead of her, breaking the forks of Tony’s bike and then scraping my chest on the road. I remember the horrified look on the driver’s face as she got out of the car. “Are you alright?” “Sure, I’m ok.” I lied (Sister V strapping had nothing on this pain). She drove off – pretty certain that I was lying. I walked across and collapsed on the lawn. I dragged the broken bike into the garage and didn’t tell anyone  what happened. 

I still feel bad about Tony’s bike.