Birthdays, Bicycles, and Fire
Sunday, May 18, 2008, posted by Q6 at 9:08 PM
If anyone is making a list of this planet's dumbest things, I have one to add: earlier this month, the Olympic Torch, on its way to Beijing, went to the top of Mount Everest. If someone wants to explain to me why anyone thought it was a good idea to take fire to a place on Earth with the lowest oxygen supply, I'm all ears. (In fact, if anyone wants to explain why the Chinese Space Agency spent all kinds of money developing the torches and fuel to keep the thing lit up there I'll listen to that, too.)

I turned 39 last week. A cool birthday: lots of good wishes, lots of people guessing my age wrong, and some cool gifts (including the camera I wanted--thank you, wonderful fiancee). And, of course, a quick mental review of the last 39 years. Quite the highlight reel, and one particular memory came to mind because of the Olympic Torch story.

In the summer of 1984 I found out that the Olympic Torch relay would come within three miles of my house on a Saturday. Being the geek that I am, I got up early, got on my bike, and decided to follow it while it went through my neighborhood. Specifically, I was going to catch up with it at Redondo Beach Boulevard and Gramercy and follow it up RBB to Hawthorne Blvd. It would take all of 45 minutes, tops, and I'd be home before my mom even woke up.

Four hours later, my bike and I were in the Rose Garden outside the L.A. Memorial Coliseum.

It was the coolest ride. When I caught up to the torch, the four or five of us on bikes had to ride behind the police escort, but as the miles went on the number of bikers multiplied (as did the crowds along the streets), and as we left the City of Hawthorne we found ourselves behind the torch's support van and in front of the police cars--we were a part of the parade! Once the torch passed, people were still waving . . . at us! The party broke up once the torch-runner entered the Coliseum's tunnel (the opening ceremonies still wouldn't be for a day or two), and I found myself far from home, very late, and without a clear plan for getting home. I knew where the Coliseum was in relation to my house, but an exact route was beyond my ninth grade knowledge of the city. I found a pay phone, called my mom (not the most pleasant conversation, naturally, but I expected worse), and then began my ride home. (Had I paid any attention to the streets we used to get there, I could have simply retraced my steps. Failing that, it was an hour before I could--and I'm not kidding here--use the sun to make sure I was going the right way.) Around 4pm, I got home. Mom came off red alert, and I had a really cool day.*

As if the Universe is trying to tell me something, I got a mailer the other day--my local bike shop is having a sale next week, with bikes up to 50% off. Since my son now uses what was once my bike, I find myself in need of my own. As I've posted before, I have plenty of things to pay for--the kid's driving lessons, a wedding, a plethora of home imporvement projects--but I'm thinking about it now. After all, how often do I get a 50% off opportunity for something that can give you such cool experiences and memories?


*I've heard my brother tell this story three times, and each time he's had it wrong. If you've ever heard him tell it, let me clear up a few things: I did not get a ride home from my mother (she was WAY too pissed), she DID know where I was going that morning, and I did NOT get home at 11pm.
 
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At 11:12 PM, Anonymous Anonymous

wow....just wow...ya i remember him telling that story, but lol thats just hilarious. i'd be dead. i would be so dead if i did that. not only would i be dead, but before i died, my mother would've called everyone she can think of after the first 45 min. And after she killed me, she'd bring me back to ground my butt for months.....

 


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