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Admiring the Bike
Tonya Judy
*A purple gooseneck stem
The day the music died
was playing when I turned on the radio in my recently acquired 92 Toyota Corolla. I'd unlocked the car carefully and poked
my head up long enough after getting it to start to turn on the radio. I fought gravity's pull on the driver's side door getting
in as my leg was still sticking out of it. Gravity was winning and my leg was complaining as the seatbelt began closing me
in. Claustrophobia isn't good anywhere; but, it's exceptionally bad in cars. I drug my book bag in with my left arm and flung
my hat, scarf and gloves into the passenger seat with my right hand. 'My hands were clenched in fists of rage'.
By the time I got to the big intersection near my house, feeling trapped like a bay leaf in a bottle, I was almost situated.
I watched a flock of pigeons fly over the car and envied their freedom as Peter Frampton's Show me the way came on the radio.
His "wa wa" nonsense made me feel oddly nostalgic even as I listened to the crowd's ridiculous input of boisterous
cheering for apparently no reason. Perhaps Peter felt the irony and decided to poke fun at his fans. What the hell were they
cheering for anyway?
*A teal saddle seat
The rain was filling the gutter drains and pooling on the
road. Huge troughs of water trapped helpless and cold pedestrians. Cars as well as foot traffic often skirted to one crawling
lane to avoid other foot traffic and little lakes on the road. All I could do was float along in my grey boat and hope I was
the right captain for the day's journey. So far, I have a great (though grudge-filled) record.
*An orange top tube
The heater wasn't working and I couldn't get it to be warm before the car was anyway. This fact irritated me as
I continued laughing at Peter Frampton's crowd of folly filled fans and only half-hearing his stupid "wa wa" lyrics.
The gauge began to register the engine's increase in temperature and so I decided to turn the heater on. Its baking warmth
rolled over me as I sloshed through the street.
A red Toyota Tercel got in front of me near the laundromat on
my right and inched along at a snail's pace. The driver had short, grey hair so i cursed age repeatedly as we crawled along.
Indecision was most likely this captain's middle name. Half-attempts at letting better drivers go by were overcorrected away
as I and my fellow drivers approached his left side.
*An orange seat tube
I prayed that the driver
would turn right and go to the low-income housing down the hill or turn right again and go grocery shopping at Giant. It was
getting hot and the rain was slowing to a few blossoms of fine mist. I cranked my window down a bit and gratefully took in
some fresh and bracing air. Wet plumes that smelled like old leaves hit me in gentle waves as I crawled along behind the Tercel.
My seatbelt was biting into my neck. I pulled my rearview mirror down to look at the damage and cursed cars' designs
as I saw the bright, red, splotchy welt on my otherwise happy neck. The steering wheel never felt close enough. The rain was
starting again so I stopped fiddling and adjusting long enough to roll the window back up.
*Two red lugs
It wasn't that I mind getting wet. I don't. But, cars do. They complain and then sock you full on later with a wet ass
when you feel the need for a dry one. I turned the heat down and turned the radio down too. All that was currently playing
was a commercial for adult walkie-talkies anyway.
"Dad. This tree house is so great!"
"Thanks
son."
"Just one thing. How do we get back down?"
"Oops. I guess I forgot to build
us a way down. We can just use this tin can on a string that I rigged up in case of emergencies. He he. Your mom has the can
at the other end. Ele...a..nor. Elea....nor."
Yeah. That makes me want to just roll on out and get some adult
walkie-talkies of my own. Hey, I might need one. The volume keeps flickering in and out as the radio or speakers has a short
somewhere. It shot up really loudly just after I had tried to tune out the walkie-talkie advertisement.
Still
behind the red Tercel and people are beginning to honk in protest. As the road splits to two lanes by the soccer field and
running track; the Tercel pulls over (like big trucks or RVs will often do for cars on long and winding roads..of which..this
road was neither).
*A silver head tube
Everyone smiles like loons as we pass the grey haired man and
his traveling companion. Some people seem to keep going slowly just to prove that they didnt honk rudely. I don't fall for
that as I smile a bit evilly and roar past them. I slosh his little Tercel with muddy rainwater and adjust the seatbelt again.
It's getting hot in the car again but at least my new Toyota isnt fogging up. Its windows were rubbed recently
with some anti-fogging agent for just such a day as this. I get stuck following a city bus just after my brief taste of freedom.
The Ride-On bus, #9755400, is owned by Montgomery County Government. It's blue and white. It's huge, square ass is blocking
my view of traffic conditions up ahead. Shouldn't passenger cars have been made really, really tall to compensate for this
type of thing? This light is taking forever.
Someone named Robyn is the ninth caller at 94.7 fm. Classic rock.
And she is sort of excited to have won her prize. The DJ asks her if this winning is going to help her with her Christmas
shopping. Robyn pauses, almost too long, and finally says, "Well, I'm sorta Jewish." The DJ says, "Sorta Jewish.
Is that anything like a little pregnant?"
Egads. So much for DJs being quick on their feet. I change the
station and the light finally changes. It's almost as if I caused the light to change. WEIRD. Just in time to let the green
light illuminate the clouds of grey exhaust smoke from the bus. Ahh. The Ride-On lumbers slowly to the next intersection and
seems to slam on the brakes about 33 times before we get to the turn. No time to test my powers with the radio again.
I round the corner on East-West highway and see two pedestrians trying desperately to finish crossing this ultra-busy,
6 lane road. They are halfway across but I am the only one stopping for them. We wait. Staring at each others' incredulous
faces as car after car honks at me and them and splashes us and keeps rolling by. Finally. A red light intervenes. They wave
to me and we all shake our heads in disbelief. I raise both of my hands palm up to them and see that they can't understand
this behavior any more than I can.
*A purple fork
In the morning paper, my shock and disbelief, disgust
and rage were swallowed down with an 'everything' bagel and cream cheese. Gulps of burning hot coffee accompanied my gulping
down the story that explains what happened last Friday evening on the very road I would travel on/am on right now.
A 26-year-old man named Edward Vatthya was hit while on the median strip at the intersection of East-West highway and
16th street. When I drove by there last Friday; I had just missed this hit and run. All I saw. Yeah. God. All I saw was a
green, wool jacket and a big smear of real, human blood. This wasn't a story. This wasn't the TV news. This was right outside
of my car. With all of the police.
The police were looking for the driver of the silver Volkswagen that had hit
Edward. The driver had gotten out of the car, a witness says, pulled the front fender from the tire and had gotten back in
and driven away from the scene.
Edward, only 26, was rushed to a hospital and he died Monday in the ICU. I drove
by the site of his murder and planned on getting him a bouquet of flowers. Something cheery and bright would do. I would put
them at the place I'd seen his jacket and the blood.
*A silver quick release
I finally made it to the
intersection nearest the huge parking lot by the Bethesda Barnes and Noble bookshop. I waited at the light and fidgeted with
my car seat until I felt like I could sit comfortably waiting for the light to turn green and the folks that were jay-walking
to make it all the way across the five-lane roads.
As I rounded the corner, a flash of silver caught the attention
of my overworked right eye. I chalked it up to the fountain in front of the bookstore and went about the business of chomping
at the bit enough to let pedestrians know that I needed to get into the parking lot and relaxing enough not to scare them.
Gratefully, I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel after parking and sat in the slowly humming car as I unwound
a bit before getting the car to stop running. I love to sit in a car when it's on and isn't going anywhere. Especially when
it's raining. I sank into the seat a bit as I fumbled under the steering wheel and listened to the car give up to the sound
of rain and my own breathing.
*A metallic sticker
I braced myself for the impending break with my car-reality
and the smells I would encounter upon opening the door. I eagerly embraced this break as it meant getting into the air and
being free of straps and so many rules. No DJs in the air around me. Just people walking and air rushing by in wet gusts.
I stalked the elusive free chair and table upon entering the warm rooms and levels of Barnes and Noble. I was drawn
to take a table upstairs overlooking the fountain area. I ordered some coffee and a chocolate covered graham cracker and set
up my writing paraphernalia around me. A group of four women talked endlessly about their children and their high school reunion
as I watched drops of rain fall against the glass of the windows around me.
I wanted to write but couldn't think
of anything but Edward. I wondered what he had been doing on the road. I wondered how the driver had missed seeing Edward
Vatthya. Was the driver adjusting her seat-belt, the radio? Was the driver speeding around a slow-moving lane-hog? Was the
driver caustically muttering under his breath that 'the only good pedestrian was a dead pedestrian'? Hehe.
*Silver
and black rock-shox
I noticed a trim and athletic brunette adjusting the pedals on his bicycle outside in the
rapidly slowing rain. Fine plumes of mist shone up as rainbows all around him as he flashed his smile to passersby and waved
a couple of times. I so longed to be that man then. And there. Like that and then. He had a carton of Chinese food and a backpack
with a sketchpad in it. He sat down on the edge of the fountain closest to the entrance to the bookstore and proceeded to
make the place his own.
He leaned, I'm sure uncharacteristically, in a lazy sort of haphazard fashion against
his trusty steed and I was more jealous than ever of that complacent acceptance of his fortune. He must have the best time
with the wind to style his trendy hair and the bike to fashion his features. I was consumed with a desire to know his life.
I watched him gallantly move aside for lovely, young ladies only to reposition himself in the way as soon as they'd
moved along, smiling and politely interacting, if only for a second. He had completely absorbed all sound and thought. He
and his bike.
*Orange and black spokes
I sipped my coffee and pondered my predicament. I knew exactly
what I wanted more than anything and only wondered how to go about making it happen. I decided that the best course of action
might be a mix of truth and fiction to entice this stunning creature into a deal that I was sure could change everything for
me and surely couldn't hurt this already charmed young man.
I packed up my writing materials and slipped the chocolate
graham into my shirt pocket. I finished my coffee and ordered another cup of fresh, steaming coffee before making my way to
the down escalator. I was certain that the man would be just where I'd left him as he'd only been about half-way through his
Chinese take-out when last I'd looked at him. And his bike. No one really thinks about bikes.
I readied the coffee
and approached the empty doorway that promised this new adventure just outside. I pushed open the door and raised the coffee
up to a level that ensured a hot mess was imminent and sort of half-stumbled into his sprawled frame that was almost blocking
one quarter of the doorway. I had been prepared to have it spill on me but, this was even better. The coffee had slipped in
the way hot paper can and it had tumbled out of my hands until it had landed on his hands, face and head.
His
scream was almost a distraction from the bike but I ultimately just put on the show of concern as he ran into the store looking
for the bathroom so as to cool off and clean up. Unlocked. She was there, alone and unlocked! My fortune really was changing.
I watched with an indignant look as fellow book enthusiasts and bagel lovers ran to the sound of his waning scream. They were
as busy as I'd imagined they would be and so preoccupied, I was free to claim my prize.
*An orange and black basket
attachment
I read in the paper that this new, little town puts out that the mystery surrounding Edward's death
would surely remain just that even though police had found the car that their suspect had ditched after driving the silver
Volkswagen into the Potomac.
*A rainbow colored handlebar tassle
Short Stories
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