Neige wrote: Jimbo wrote:
Not an ounce of cool. So sandals and socks. So … European.
Says the guy who drives a mama-chari...
From the dumb shit I did as a kid department, my father had presented me with the coolest bicycle, a red Columbia three speed street bike. Had a back rack with a spring clasp, built-in twin headlights - it'd be worth some money if I had it today. Stupidly, I didn't like it. All my other friends had English racers with skinny tires and two handbrakes. My Columbia was distinctly American made. It had coaster brakes and one front handbrake.
I had decorated the frame with some US Air Force decals from a plastic jet plane model. Anyway, one autumn afternoon while cycling to Hebrew school after regular school I met a fellow student who wanted a ride to school. He was larger than I so he did the pedaling while I sat on the crossbar and somehow the heel of my shoe got snagged in the front wheel spokes and down we went. We were all right but the front wheel was so bent so badly that I had to wheelbarrow the bike to the school. I was scared to bring the bike home afraid that Dad would get mad so I left it in the bike rack at the school and somehow avoided telling him - - for months. I have a vivid picture in my mind of the bike in the rack covered with snow. Come springtime the bike was gone, stolen. Come summertime I and my friends were playing basketball and some bad boys on bikes came over to give us some shit. One boy had a custom made bad boy bike with a big front wheel and smaller rear wheel, the frame of which was decorated with US Air Force decals. I said nothing.
Some say the glass is half-empty others half-full. I say. "Lemme see that glass!"