2004-06-18 - 2:50 p.m.


 

Eric and bikes: A Tragic Dramedy

Eric and bikes: A Tragic Dramedy:

I will put this in order of age. Hopefully my memory serves me well because there were many events that happened on several different bikes. My relationship with bikes has spanned both coasts of the United States and in Europe. The saga for now has ended since I do not currently own a bike. Anyway, liketa here here�d go:

1. Age 3ish: I think my Dad is at the convenience store down the street (way down the street) and figure that I will meet him there and he will then buy me a package of bonkers or watermelon gum. Rather than stay to the side of the road, I figure my best bet to not get lost is to drive down the double yellow line in the middle of street. My mom flips out as I am no longer around. She calls the neighbors who inform her that I was riding down the middle of the street. Did they stop me? No. Mom hops in the Honda (which I previously tried to drive at 2years old after my grandfather taught me how to start a car) and tracks me down. She pulls up next to me and I start crying. *end scene*

2. Age 3: Eric is convinced that he will ride a two-wheeler since his sister has already mastered the skill. He does well at first until he sees people on ten speeds doing that �I�m a cool person� back peddle thing when they�re going forward. Not being one to be outdone, Eric attempts this and forgets that on his bike, when you move the peddles like that, it activates the brakes. Cut to Eric stopping every time he tries it and falling over sideways. I�d be truckin along, going, going going, *back peddle�.ERRRRRRR�CRASH*

3. Also Age 3: Now learning how to properly move the bike without causing any sudden stops, I am getting the hang of things until I suddenly flip myself over forwards. The rest of that story is a blur. All I remember is that it required a trip to the hospital.

4. Age 6: I attempt to ride Kristin�s bike which is way larger than mine since she is four years older and a lot taller. Normally I wouldn�t have taken it, but her bike was blue and glittery. It also had cooler handlebars than mine did. I can�t get up on the seat and work the peddles so I just sort of rock out on the peddles while squatting between the handlebars and the seat. I lose control, crash into the trash cans in front of the house and leave the bike there, thinking that no one will notice what happened.

5. Age 6: I�m too lazy to move my bike from the general courtyard area of the strip of condos and wake up the next morning to find it stolen. Damnit.

6. Age 7: While trying to pop a wheeley in the street, I go up, come down, lose control and proceed to surf on my face along some gravel. I pass out, wake up in shock and walk my bike home thinking nothing happened. My mom almost shits her pants when she sees my face. The trip to the doctor included a brush they used on my face to get out the dirt and rocks. Note to the reader: it hurt.

7. Age 10: While trying to see if how far I can make my bike go by pushing it (the ghost rider effect) I push it too hard, it gets to a hill and then I sprint down the hill after my bike that has no one on it. While doing this a car full of teenagers passes me and laughs. Fun times.

8. Age 10: I have now acquired a ten-speed and I am able to do the back peddle business without setting off the brakes. The fun part though is that the brakes are on the handles�one set activates the front brakes only while the other set does the whole thing. I�m speeding along down a hill, get to the intersection and because I�m a rocket scientist, only apply the front brakes. My eyes get wider and wider as the back end of my bike raises up higher and higher before I realize I�m going to have to abandon ship. Luckily there were casualties.

9. Age 17: In Munich, Germany I take a bike tour. Along the way we stop at a beer garden (flawless). I drink two �glasses� of beer. By glasses I mean glass containers that I could have feasibly taken a bath in. The ride back was a bit blurry and I witnessed one of my fellow bikers take out someone on roller blades. The guy on the blades came whipping around the corner. Unbeknownst to him there were drunk tourists on bikes not paying attention. I�ve never seen anyone fly that far or high without the aid of a trampoline. Gravity was not his friend that day.

To this day I don�t own a bike and am very happy with my car. I think I�ll keep it that way, unless I purchase a Ninja�a yellow one�with matching helmet and outfit a la Uma in Kill Bill vol. 1. Then I would be my very own best friend. It�s Friday!!!! *AIR HORN*

e.

Diaryland