The ridiculous looking machine sits in front of me, its wheels no bigger than a side plate and when fully inflated looking like something off a bloated garden wheelbarrow. I think about the HMX500 BMX bike I had wanted for ages and the daily pleading that would be met with a ‘We’ll see’ from Mum. Ultimately, I did get a bike; a pinky-brown thing the same colour as school radiators with a carrier and no crossbar. It was effectively a girls Raleigh 20 (second hand); however despite the heavy steel construction I later found that it could do satisfactory jumps and even better skids.
“So, are ya gonna get on?” Dale asks, jolting me back to my present surroundings of the small neighbourhood park as he stands beside the throbbing machine, the two-stroke motor emitting hideous blue smoke.
“Ah. yeah, sure,” I reply trying to recall the stop and go mechanisms. Right-fast, left-slow. Got it - I confirmed to myself. Maybe I’m not so sure I’m ready for this; it wasn’t all that long ago that our fun consisted of making an aeroplane cockpit out of cardboard boxes joined together, a transistor radio and curled telephone cord forming the imaginary coms to the tower. Now I am about to step onto a real, ‘live’ machine, even if my Raleigh 20 might have dwarfed it.
I can feel the wind around my ears, I’ve got the hang of this. What was I so worried about?
“I can’t stop!”I shout in mild panic to my friend not that I can see him. My right fingers are attached to the throttle like PVA glue holding my digits together by a second skin. I feel I’m getting faster and now I’m faced with my first serious choice of my ten-year-old life. I don’t fancy dying until I have at least three paragraphs of achievements to place in the paper.
Coming up very quickly is a wooden power pole on my right and on the other side, a corrugated iron fence. Decision making not being a strong point, I lay down the bike at speed in some idiotic form of surrender. Neither pole nor fence have won, but neither have I. My left hand a casualty of the footpath, gravel embedded into the open palm wound and my forehead chipped and grazed. Blood makes a curious colourful addition to the drab grey pants and jersey of the Main school uniform.
I can’t yet decide if this is going to help or hinder my chances of obtaining a bright yellow BMX bike.
Andrew Hawkey
BONUS STORY
The boy who jumped off a cloud
Once upon a time there was a 8 year old boy that wanted to jump off a montain because he likes to go and amagine that he was in a reall clowed his pearince wur very sand and lonely so they drove up the montain to see if they could find the 8 year old but they didint see him so the pearince Jumped too and then they found the 8 year old boy we went back to the car and drove back home but there was a ginat rock in the way and the cars enjen was brokend. then we had to call the towtruck to come. It took 10 minute then the totruck came they hocked the hook. The Pearince and the boy wur safe. they lived happely ever after.
Cole Hawkey aged 7 (and a half)
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