Racked

July 06, 2005

momwheresmybiiike.jpg

When I was ten, I had a bike just like that one in the photo. Mine was red and had a tiger stripe banana seat. It was the coolest thing I ever owned. I loved that bike. The first day I got the bike, I rode it all day long. I got my friend Jerry and a group of other guys together and we spent the day riding around on our bikes.

Damn, I was happy.

I was so happy I wanted to catch some air. Jumping with your bike was a neighborhood tradition. You'd pretend you were Evil Kneivel and jump anything you could. If you had a new bike you had to see how it would catch air. Any bike could ride but a great bike could fly. You always wanted your first jump to be a good one. Everyone would be watching. A crappy first jump and you'd never hear the end of it. As we rode, I was keeping my eye out for a dirt hill or a ditch to jump when I found something even better.

We were riding in an alley when I saw a pile of bricks next to a bunch of crappy old boards. I told the guys "hey wait up a minute". I got off the bike and started stacking the bricks into a pile. I then took the longest board I could find and finished my ramp. I stood back to inspect my construction. It looked good. It looked strong. I looked up at the guys and nodded.
It was time. The new bikes first jump.

I pedaled up the alley and turned to face the ramp. I stopped and raised one fist into the air just like Evil Kneivel. I was ready. There was no turning back. I pedaled as fast as I could towards that ramp. The guys were yelling "go man go". As my front tire hit the board I heard a loud crraaaack. All I remember thinking was "Oh shit". The board broke and my bike slammed into the pile of bricks. I slid off the seat and my family jewels slammed into the big shifter on the frame.

As I lay on the ground in agony, one of my frinds said "Oh man, he got racked". Through the waves of pain I could hear them whispering to each other.... Every other word was" racked". I looked up at my friend Jerry. He was looking down at me like he was a doctor telling a patient some very bad news. He spoke slowly and clearly so I would understand.
"Dude, you got racked" he said.

I had to hear about how bad I "got racked" for a week or two until Jerry got beat up by his sister. Thank god for that distraction. If one more person asked me "how yer nuts doin" I was gonna scream.

Even though I got racked
I still loved that bike

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