This from maybe 2002...
Yesterday
I have ridden into town on the rat, carrying a road frame; Justin’s supposed to work with me to order a build kit. The sharp bits on the frame dig into my neck, and one tube’s riding painful on my collarbone, and there’s a south wind, and the rat’s high gearing makes spinning up hills impossible, but it’s OK, haven’t been out on the rat in twenty years.
Down into town and round the corner into the shop door, mechanics wave, except Arie, who snarls, he’s on no sleep and his depression has kicked in. She’s not there yet for me.
I go upstairs. Justin, of course, is not there. He has forgotten, as he always does. Back down the stairs, overlooking the floor, I wave the frame, offering to find Justin and shove it up his ass, and she starts to edge in on me, below me, standing to the left, just a little, slim, dark hair, average height.
I’m focused on the build kit, and find Chaz across the street working in the record store. We discuss the kit, then I bring the frame back to leave at the shop. There’s some sort of a search for a bolt cutter – she’s flowing into me – she has locked her bike to a lamp post across the stream, can’t unlock it; the mechanics mill around and can’t get their shit together to do anything.
I suggest that she ask the police, they ought to have a cutter. She doesn’t know where they are, everybody tries to describe it, doesn’t take. She’s new in town. She’s in focus now – I’m aware of her oval face, dark eyes, her voice, small breasts. I’m headed in the right direction, offer to show her the way.
We amble up the street, I ask if she’s a student, yeah, a freshman. I show her the police station, tell her that campus security can help out if the townies can’t. She replies that she hasn’t registered the bike on campus… She heads for the station, I go to get GatorAde and a doughnut.
Heading out of the store and back to the shop, she has emerged, looks like no luck, she’s headed towards the campus. I return to the shop.
I eat my doughnut, drink, talk to the boys. Then she’s back. Arie starts rooting through the tools, comes up with a clapped out pair of electrician’s pliers, which he rejects. He continues to root through the workbench. I take the old pliers and a couple of hammers, with Arie offering some resistance, then “Fuck you, you do it.”
She and I wander over the bridge, up the hill, and find the lamp post, where there’s an old Ross mountain bike with thumbies, and yeah, it’s tangled up with the post and a trash can with a new cable lock, and it won’t open, so a few turns and twists with the pliers cuts the cable, which goes into the trash can. She says thanks, I say y’welcome, she wants to buy me lunch, I say naw, pass it on, go buy another lock, you need your wheels.
I head back to the shop, and she’s wheeling the bike along with me, and I’m real conscious of her and joyful, and she’s from Salt Lake City and just a freshman, and I say what do you mean just, what do you want to do, and she doesn’t know, and I say I don’t know what I want do do when I grow up, and she says that’s what her father says, and we somehow get back to the shop.
I buy a tire and she buys a cable, and then David refunds the cable, says the other lock’s warranted, and we both give her a wear-a-helmet pitch, and she offers me lunch again and I decline, so she leaves, and eventually so do I.
As I ride back home, this time with the wind at my back, I’m high. I feel the frame flex as I pedal, and I’m thinking about her, she’s inside me, and I realize that I didn’t say what I should have, if you need somebody to listen, if you need help, if you’re in a jam, call me, the boys at the shop can find me, and I’m lost someplace in the space between desire and being a boy scout and being a stand-in father for a kid standing naked in a strange new world.
Yesterday
I have ridden into town on the rat, carrying a road frame; Justin’s supposed to work with me to order a build kit. The sharp bits on the frame dig into my neck, and one tube’s riding painful on my collarbone, and there’s a south wind, and the rat’s high gearing makes spinning up hills impossible, but it’s OK, haven’t been out on the rat in twenty years.
Down into town and round the corner into the shop door, mechanics wave, except Arie, who snarls, he’s on no sleep and his depression has kicked in. She’s not there yet for me.
I go upstairs. Justin, of course, is not there. He has forgotten, as he always does. Back down the stairs, overlooking the floor, I wave the frame, offering to find Justin and shove it up his ass, and she starts to edge in on me, below me, standing to the left, just a little, slim, dark hair, average height.
I’m focused on the build kit, and find Chaz across the street working in the record store. We discuss the kit, then I bring the frame back to leave at the shop. There’s some sort of a search for a bolt cutter – she’s flowing into me – she has locked her bike to a lamp post across the stream, can’t unlock it; the mechanics mill around and can’t get their shit together to do anything.
I suggest that she ask the police, they ought to have a cutter. She doesn’t know where they are, everybody tries to describe it, doesn’t take. She’s new in town. She’s in focus now – I’m aware of her oval face, dark eyes, her voice, small breasts. I’m headed in the right direction, offer to show her the way.
We amble up the street, I ask if she’s a student, yeah, a freshman. I show her the police station, tell her that campus security can help out if the townies can’t. She replies that she hasn’t registered the bike on campus… She heads for the station, I go to get GatorAde and a doughnut.
Heading out of the store and back to the shop, she has emerged, looks like no luck, she’s headed towards the campus. I return to the shop.
I eat my doughnut, drink, talk to the boys. Then she’s back. Arie starts rooting through the tools, comes up with a clapped out pair of electrician’s pliers, which he rejects. He continues to root through the workbench. I take the old pliers and a couple of hammers, with Arie offering some resistance, then “Fuck you, you do it.”
She and I wander over the bridge, up the hill, and find the lamp post, where there’s an old Ross mountain bike with thumbies, and yeah, it’s tangled up with the post and a trash can with a new cable lock, and it won’t open, so a few turns and twists with the pliers cuts the cable, which goes into the trash can. She says thanks, I say y’welcome, she wants to buy me lunch, I say naw, pass it on, go buy another lock, you need your wheels.
I head back to the shop, and she’s wheeling the bike along with me, and I’m real conscious of her and joyful, and she’s from Salt Lake City and just a freshman, and I say what do you mean just, what do you want to do, and she doesn’t know, and I say I don’t know what I want do do when I grow up, and she says that’s what her father says, and we somehow get back to the shop.
I buy a tire and she buys a cable, and then David refunds the cable, says the other lock’s warranted, and we both give her a wear-a-helmet pitch, and she offers me lunch again and I decline, so she leaves, and eventually so do I.
As I ride back home, this time with the wind at my back, I’m high. I feel the frame flex as I pedal, and I’m thinking about her, she’s inside me, and I realize that I didn’t say what I should have, if you need somebody to listen, if you need help, if you’re in a jam, call me, the boys at the shop can find me, and I’m lost someplace in the space between desire and being a boy scout and being a stand-in father for a kid standing naked in a strange new world.
