Remember When…
Saturday, May 3, 2008
As probably pretty much every single parent from the dawn of time has done, I find myself guilty of the kindest of crimes – wanting to share a passion of mine with my child. Specifically BMX.
BMX (or bicycle motocross) is essentially the same as the motorized sport – racing on dirt over jumps, obstacles and turns. It is, to put it simply, the formal version of what all kids would generally be doing on their bikes around my childhood neighborhood. Many a summer day was spent building, testing and daring each other to launch off rigged ramps, tear around improvised courses and (lawyers be dammed) exploring partially constructed homes in the Chartridge with precious little regard for risk, injury or logic. The possibility of parental intrusion, however, loomed large. Perhaps because of some sense of our illicit Evel Kenievel ambitions, my parents signed me up for a BMX team. I imagine some of the details are wrong, but I do recall the shop where my beloved Mongoose bicycle was purchased sponsored a team. In exchange for the registration fee I was given a long-sleeve (as required) team jersey and a glamourous paper plate number. Along with my blue and yellow helmet these were the badges of deep pride. I was actually going to RACE. How cool is that? Very cool. I’m not sure how long the season was, but I do recall two incidents in particular. One was having a great start to a race, pedaling off to a solid lead. Unfortunately by the last berm I was all done in and got passed on the last straightaway. The other was the catastrophic failure of my pedal bearings coming down the ramp. If memory serves an older neighbor (was it Danny Bidle?) knew how to fix it and in our improvised pits he brought my Mongoose back from the dead.
Sadly, the memories are vague as you can see. I think I only raced that one season and I have no clear recollection why. I imagine it competed in time and expense with other activities and honestly I know my sister and I played soccer, softball / baseball, did after school stuff and were generally busy. Maybe it didn’t fit into the schedule or maybe I didn’t express my love for it at the time because like many kids I didn’t appreciate it as much as I would later in life.
The fact is, that sign by the road stating “BMX Track” bought back memories that I cherish. Hanging out with my friend Jason at the track, sharing that camaraderie with the other riders and that moment when the bike balanced between my legs and the starter called out “racers ready…..” and you pressed against the gate awaiting the drop.
I hope Nicky will appreciate those moments as a child and I yearn to find the voice to guide and encourage him to discover HIS passions. They may be similar to mine, or maybe he’ll embrace Mabel’s creative flair. Either way, it’s going to be a wonderful ride.