Starbucks lady asked me if anyone has a permanent place on the back of my bike. My answer is no. It's basically first come, first served at the moment. She wants to go riding. She's married. That complicates things.
I joined a group from my high school, yes, my high school, 40 something years ago high school. Miami Edison Senior High Red Raiders. One of the oldest schools in the city. Both my mom and dad attended. It is a real trip talking to my classmates. The amazing thing about it, is that we all jumped at the opportunity to reconnect. All the beautiful girls who I was too afraid to talk with back then are now chatting away with me on Facebook. I was such a nerd, still am I guess! We had motorcycles back then and even back in junior high. My friend Donald had a Honda Dream 305, freaky looking and curvy, but still cool. Another had a MotoGuzzi, another a Yamaha, another a Suzuki and so on and so on. Back then a Triumph Bonneville had to be the coolest bike any of my friends had, that is until I got my first bike. A Harley Davidson Sportster XLCH, customized pretty radically. Leopard skin gas tank and dovetail rear fender with flat, drag style handlebars, very short, and the 883cc engine chromed to the max. It was just plain evil. It was a head turner. Loved to drag race it down Biscayne Boulevard from light to light. Once I was racing a 1000cc Sportster newer than my '66 and was pulling away from him when we saw a cop make a u turn and come after us. The other guy continued down the boulevard while I turned East and zigzagged all over the residential area next to the Bay. After a half hour of left and right turns in non sequential order, I pulled back out onto the boulevard, directly in front of the cop. Not where he had to put on his brakes or anything, just moseyed out right in front of him. OK, he followed me directly to the place I was staying just off 79 street and proceeded to pull in behind me. "Umm, I just wanted to see if my bike was faster officer. I know it was wrong." I think he was just happy to have caught me, because he said something like, it's a good thing I got some last night and I'm in a good mood, and don't do it again. "Yes sir. Never again." It was an awesome machine and he was admiring it too.
One of our classmates that no one remembers, at least not yet, said he was leaving our group--that it was becoming click-ish. He meant clique. Said he grew up poor, had homemade clothes, that others made fun of him, and decided to leave. He drew 78 comments, some trying to convince him to come back, others poking fun still, to this day. I commented to him that I also grew up poor, had homemade clothes and if he would reconsider, that I would be the first to congratulate him and that we, just as in the service, leave none of our Red Raiders behind. We miss you Felipe, come back. What happened to us and how we experienced life during our years in high school helped mold us into who we have become. It's not written in stone, however, that we remain timid and shy and afraid to talk with beautiful girls, or that we feel like outcasts or the brunt of jokes, like me and Felipe. We change--for the better. We decide who we are by our actions and our beliefs. Felipe touched a nerve. The cool kids in high school have consciences. 78 of them came out to respond to Felipe. It's not over yet. They are pushing for a hundred. Most of it is light banter, but to Felipe it is the reason for him leaving.
I only know of two boulevards. Hollywood and Biscayne. One West, and the other East, ours in Miami. There is nothing like crusing down the boulevard on a motorcycle with Jimi Hendrix playing in your head, thinking about crazy times in high school. Go Red Raiders.
Man, I know this feeling. I figure everyone knows this feeling. Even the "cool" kids had their insecurities and bad times. We weren't in their shoes to feel it or see it, but I know the cool kids had their share of shitty times in high school.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad that those days are gone for me. I'm very happy to just "be me" without the BS of trying to fit in and have friends. You've done a good thing by advancing a hand of friendship to Felipe. It's never easy coming back to a place where people don't remember you. (Very few remember me at my high school web site either.) And the memories are mostly of intolerable teasing. Good subject matter to write on, Rich. Good writing.