Thursday, January 18, 2007

A Flight and a Crash

One morning I was riding my bike to work in downtown Baltimore. It was a chilly morning, and I didn't want to ride my bike, because I never want to ride my bike, because only one brake works, and I don't know how to shift the gears well. It's an old ten-speed. It has twelve speeds, but it's a ten-speed because it's shaped like the bike I had when I was a youth, which was a ten-speed. When I was a youth it was a Panasonic, blue. Now I ride a black Raleigh. This morning on my way to work I was riding it, and I wiped, and it was awesome. Sometimes I beg a ride from my girlfriend, about half the time, but this morning we weren't speaking because she was asleep. So I rode my bike, which I never want to do, because it makes my legs hurt.

I should be writing this in Danish. In fact, I originally wrote this in Danish, but it was translated.

Luckily, I didn't have my video camera taped to the front of my Raleigh. One time I thought about how a good movie would be to videotape my ride home from work, because I ride from the glittery Baltimore inner harbor into the shabby east side, where my girlfriend, Tiffany, and I live. My name is Adam Robison. On this particularly morning, however, I did not have my video camera, because I do not have a video camera, at all. One time my friend Ryan said he was having an art crisis. At the time he was a photographer but now he plays the Moog.

"How come you are having an art crisis," I said.

"Because I cannot find my camera."

For similar reasons, I have not yet made my movie. Once I do, though, it will be a scathing look at economic inequity in Baltimore, an extremely unequal town, economically. But I do not complain, because I am currently employed to much gain. Not only that, but I also don't complain because I think there are better ways to enact change. For instance, one could live in a poor neighborhood, like I do, and sweep the trash from up off the street every once in a while. One could staple poems to the abandoned houses. I did that, both of those things. I think the poems really made a difference. One of the abandoned houses was demolished.

So I was cruising down this hill while I was riding my bike, a shallow hill, an old bike, a bad shifter. The Ravens, who are the Baltimore football team, were scheduled for a playoff game the following Saturday. Everyone in town, even the poor people and the druggies, were psyched out. They were really looking forward to that game. I was even a little excited, although I don't like purple (the Ravens's color) and never watch football. But then I decided I would try and go into tenth gear, because I was enjoying my ride, my girlfriend and I had ridden together the night before after sushi eating, and I realized how fast I was compared to her, so I was knocking myself out with my speed, so I switched it into tenth gear. I'd quit smoking the previous Friday, not that it matters, but just so you know.

Then get a load of this. Before I could even put my hand back on the handlebar the front wheel cocked itself perpendicular to the bike frame. "Well, here I go," I thought. "Fwoop." I flew through the air like that muthafudge Santa Claus and landed on the ground. It was the street, but it couldn't stop me. I just slid across it on my chest and pants and scarf. All the high school girls went "Do do do do," and I jumped up and said "Hey baby, please don’t knock on my bike ride."

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