Bmx bust up
When I was eleven years old I was the proud owner of a redline bmx bike. My father purchased this Bike with 2 days wages back in 1982. The bike cost roughly four hundred dollars, yeah he spoiled me. The reason I needed a new bike was the fact that the tempest I bought from the Bay broke in mid flight during the biggest jump I had ever done. The bike dropped away from me and I landed gripping the handle bars with all my might.
A neighbor of mine saw this and started laughing and weezing so hard I almost forgot all about my crummy bike. I felt sick to my stomach.
It was the beginning of summer and It was already sucking, bmx was my life. Some kids fished, some read, some got into trouble, I road my bike. My summer was over. My mother consoled me until my father got home. The way he saw it a bmx bike should not break like that. They are after all made for jumping aren’t they.
So it was off to the Hudsons Bay Department store to get the knew bike on warranty. We were surprised to find that in the small print of the warranty the bike was not meant for jumping. The warranty was voided some time during my bragging explanation of the big jump and the guy who almost weezed to death next door. Turns out the dude helping us was deaf and told my father he would order the new part. The new forks would arrive in approximately six weeks. Great.The whole summer without a bike.
I don’t know why or how we ended up at a bike shop in Terrace B.C. but we were on vacation and Terrace was on our way anywhere.
The shop was small and crammed with bmx bikes. The smell of grease and rubber and the sound of the bike mechanic grunting behind one of many kuwahara bmx bikes. Cool job dude.
It was like a dream come true and my father could see it, I am sure. I am getting goose bumps just writing this post. I remember oggling a Redline bmx racing bike. It was virgin white with beautifully crafted brilliant red components. I had to have this bike. For the first time in my life I was speachless. That was a welcomed change for all who new me.
It turned out that while I was busy trying to wipe the drool from the beautiful bike my father was closing the deal. He bought his ungrateful little loud mouth of a son a new reason for living. I couldn’t talk for 3 days after that. The ride home was peaceful and yet you couldn’t hear over the noise.