View From A Headlight

View from a Headlight

JOSEPH MERCURIO JR.

HERE I AM, standing at the curb in the early morning sunshine. It sure is a beautiful day. Springtime. Man, there’s nothing like it. Everything coming back to life and starting to grow like crazy. And the air. Balmy. Not scorching hot like the middle of August, not freezing your valves like in January. I inhale deeply through my carburetor. Smells great; warm May air floating in on the fumes of High Test. Sun now glinting off my blue metalflake front fender, shining right in my headlight. I give a slight tug backward and let my front wheel flop gently to the left. There, that’s better. Even gives me a better view of traffic. Not much here on Connie’s street though. Nice neighborhood. Nice and quiet. I wonder what’s keeping Tony? He and Connie should have been out by now. Well, maybe she overslept. Hope nothing’s wrong. Nice girl, Connie. Tony was sure in a hurry to get over here this morning. Didn’t even give me a proper warm-up. I guess I can’t complain. He takes pretty good care of me. Plenty of bikes around half my age, real clunkers. Yeah, Tony’s a good boy. I can’t blame him for being anxious this morning. Not with a chick like Connie waiting for us, and a whole beautiful day ahead.

Wellll, what’s this? A brand new Honda coming out of that driveway across the street. Look sharp now, boy, she’s turning this way. Give her a little blink of the headlight. Click. How about that! Rolled right by without so much as a nod of acknowledgement! Uh oh, now I see. That flashy Triumph three doors down. There they go. Well, you can’t win ’em all. Kinda young for me anyway.

Where the heck is Tony? Come on, man, my barrels are getting cool. Wonder where

we’ll go today. Most likely up Big Canyon way. Lotta nice trails up there. Probably stop at Canyon Lake to eat. Just hope he doesn’t take Goat’s Pass. Too many rocks. Not as young as I used to be. Don’t think he will, anyway. Not with Connie aboard.

Uh oh, again. Here comes Tony. Alone. Methinks all is not well. Yeah, he really sounds burnt! What’s that he’s mumbling? She forgot about our date! Oh, come on! Just two days ago I heard Connie say she was looking forward to this picnic. Sure sounds phony to me. Still, I don’t think Tony should ride in his frame of mind. I’ll kill my spark when he tries to kick me over, maybe he’ll cool off in a few minutes. Yeah, man, his foot on the kickstarter sure is heavy.

Hu-wump-ump. Come on, Tony, cool down. Hu-wump-ump, hu-wump-ump. Oh, boy, no good. I’m just making him madder. I’d better fire up on the next kick. Vrrrooom. Well, here we go. Grrrrunk. Hey, take it easy on my gearbox, man! Screeee. Oh, great, fine. Always leave part of your rear tire on the pavement, just to let everybody know we’ve been here! Idiot! Slow down, will you? Cheez, look at this guy crank it on! Watch that truck! Phew! Now where the heck are we going. This isn’t the way home. Oh, no! I hope it’s not...It is. He’s taking the right fork out of town. Only means one thing. Goat’s Pass. This jerk is gonna kill us both. I gotta do something. Man, he is flying. Where the heck are all the cops, anyway. A speeding rap would be better than Goat’s Pass. Anything would be better than Goat’s Pass. At least the way this boy has intentions of riding it.

Almost there. Around the next bend. We’re leaving the road and starting up Go...I can’t

think it. God bless my front fork. God bless my primary chain. God bless...Wait! The next bend! We’ll be going in fast...If I can just...That’s it, lean, boy, LEAN! KEEEEERRRRAAAASSSH !!

Hoooboy! I’m making like Maury Wills trying to hang a hook slide into second base. Won’t I ever stop? Second revolution! There’s Mr. Heartbreak, roadracer for a day. He’s bouncing along smoothly on his...er, exhaust system, looking rather bewildered, but all in all making the trip better than I am. I’m just off the other side of the road, my front wheel poking up onto the shoulder. Ooch! I’ve got a busted footpeg; bent handlebar; a few scrapes and scratches. Not too bad. Uh oh, here comes lover-boy. Man, has he sobered up! Hated to do it, pal, but believe me, we’re both better off. Hey, look at him give me the once-over! He’s really concerned about me. Guess I got my old Tony back. Already he’s making plans about getting that footpeg welded. New paint job, too? And new handlebars. Great!

I’m fired up practically before he finishes his first kick. Still a little shaky, but with most of his old gentle firmness, he squeezes the clutch lever and taps me into first gear. Smoothly he plays out the clutch and I feel him sit easier in the saddle, broken footpeg sticking from his back pocket. As we roll toward town (5 mph below the speed limit), I catch a few of his thoughts drifting down. I’m relieved to see he’s not thinking about Connie. I catch a few other names... Pattie... Mary... Cindy... Hazel... I think it’s going to be a great summer.