Wine, Women & Motorcycles...

"And I never see the sudden turn 'til it's way too late..."

-Jim Steinman

So the weekend comes around, her mom leaves town & Gloria could barely contain her excitement. I, however, was, for the first time in my life, wondering just what I had gotten myself into. I mean, she was cute, and she doted over me..but I wasn't really that attracted to her, and I certainly didn't really enjoy being with her all that much. And I knew full well that if I spent the weekend there, we'd end up doing it & then there'd be no going back...I'd just have to ride it out, no pun intended. Sitting here, right now, I realize that this was probably a critical point in my life: as you'll see if you stick around & I stick this thing out. This was the first time that I decided to basically waste my time on a girl that I didn't care about, just because whomever I liked was out of my reach & nothing better was on the table. It would definitely not be the last....

Anyway, I remember I had to park my car down the block from her cul-de-sac so the neighbors wouldn't know she had a boy over. She also had a best friend that was dating my old friend Jase, so they were gonna come spend the weekend too...apparently in some John Hughes production of Caligula we were going to stage...I dunno, that part wierded me out for some reason. Regardless, I don't remember what we did that evening, but I remember that by 9 o'clock or so, Jase & the friend had already retreated to the guest bedroom, and I was on my own....

You ever seen those National Geographic shows with the female lions hunting the gazelles? How they kinda circle the gazelle - who knows that he's fucked, but he can't do a damn thing about it....and then they pounce, with the claws & the teeth. Well, it was kinda like that. The girl had had all she could stands & she couldn't stands no more, and I was completely overpowered by her unbridled Jewish frenzy. We were in her bedroom with a poster of M.C. Hammer staring holes through my skull and the way-creepy face of that guy from the Fine Young Cannibals not helping either. Even so, I figured; here I was...what the hell. So, we got down & funky for a little while, but when the moment of truth came, we had some...issues.

Basically, without getting too personal (ya, I know...why do I care at this stage?) ...well, there's no way to tell it without getting too personal, but there's also no way to tell it without sounding like I'm making it up...so I'll just say that the problems arose from the fact that she was a petite girl and she had some difficulty making certain accomodations, so basically the whole thing turned into an awkward comedy routine for about 20 minutes. Finally, we found a...solution to the problem and finally consummated our already-dysfunctional relationship, but after all the build-up, I wasn't exactly Marathon Man, but she was happy anyway...she had gotten what she wanted. I remember we lied in bed & smoked a cigarette afterwards and literally heard fireworks going off outside....it had totally slipped my mind that it was 4th of July weekend. I remember that as soon I heard them go off, I knew she was going to make some bad joke about it....and sure enough a second later, she did. Then, the doorbell rang.

There was a brief moment of panic - after all, we were in an unsupervised house full of liquor, weed, and naked teenagers - but we were practiced speed-dressers & were all presentable within seconds. No need, it turned out, as Gloria opened the door to see my good friend Joe standing there (Gloria & joe didn't get along, basically becuase Joe was an ass,but I digress...). I could tell by the look on Joe's face that something was up, and I could tell by Gloria's face that she knew her special weekend had just been crashed by the idiot-friend brigade. Turns out our friend Eric had come into town unnanounced from military school, and Joe was rounding up the gang to go meet him at the bus station....so , after having a new girlfriend for about 15 official minutes, I steeled myself & prepared to do something I guess I realize now I'd never really done before....the Joliet Jake.

I know you guys know the Joliet Jake, and you ladies might know it, but just don't realize it. If you don't know where the name comes from, maybe you'll recognize the routine; it goes something like this:

"Aww, come on, baby...it isn't my fault. We gotta go pick him up...he's been riding all alone on that bus...how's he gonna get home?" "I'll be back in time to tuck you in, baby, I promise...we're just gonna go out with the guys for a little while...you know I love ya', baby. Now come gimme some sugar...atta girl..."

I never even realized I had it in me...it just came pouring out like I'd had it scripted. And it was good; she bought it...hell, I bought it. The skill has been honed over the years, but I guess it was always just built-in, I dunno. Why couldn't I have been good at woodworking or something? Regardless, a few minutes later, we were picking up big E at the bus station...an hour later we were drinking Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill wine under a railroad bridge & smashing the bottles onto the sidewalk below. Then my friends Mike & Rocco showed up on their motorcycles with a bottle of Evan Williams and some Lebanese hash. Then things got a little outta hand...

It was before midnight; I know that because we were going to run to the grocery store that closed at 12 to get something to mix the whiskey with. All our cars were parked about a half-mile away, but the bikes were right there, so Mike & I decide to take a ride to the store. Now, up to this point in my life, I had had a long love affair with motorcycles. I had my own bike and I had been riding since I was 14; in fact, I was a pretty good rider, if I do say so myself. Well, Mike was driving that night...I was riding 'bitch'. One thing I'll never forget; in all my years of riding, I would very seldom bother to buckle the chin strap on my helmet...the strap that basically keeps the helmet on your head. For some reason or another, that particular night, I buckled my chin strap...and it probably saved my life.

We were riding along on a little suburban street...buzzed, but not totally drunk. We weren't speeding...we were going maybe 40 mph, there were no other cars around, the bike was in perfect condition, the streets were clear & dry, but then while rounding a large 'S' curve, we hit a patch of gravel, and the bike went out from under us.

I remember abruptly leaning over to one side...my right side, and seeing sparks right underneath me, then I remember hitting the ground & rolling, over and over. I remember thinking the whole time I was rolling "I'm alive...I'm still alive...if I can just keep rolling, I'll stay alive". I remember seeing the sparks from the skidding bike out of the corner of my eye as I tumbled. Finally, I came to a stop, face-down in a ditch on the side of the road. I remember lying there for a second & catching my breath and realizing I was still alive...trying to lift my head up and immidiately becoming dizzy. I called out for Mike or he called out for me...I could tell he was hurt, and he seemed far away. I don't know how long I laid there, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes. I remember going through all my body parts in my mind -one by one - and trying to move them & see if I could feel them. Everything seemed fine...somehow I didn't seem to have broken anything - or if I did I was in too much shock to realize it. I finally stood up & looked around me & expected to see lights coming on & people rushing out of their houses to help, but it was deadly quiet, and I remember I heard Mike shuffling around on the ground, and I started to look for him.

He was in the midle of the road about 20 yards away from me. The bike had landed in between us in a yard on the opposite side of the road, and I remember wondering if Mike had been thrown off, and expecting to see his legs & arms mangled, or worse. As I walked up to him I remember the pain started in every part of my body...it felt like I had been beaten with baseball bats, and I remember I kept thinking that if he was able to talk then he couldn't be that hurt..and even then I think I knew that wasn't quite true. When I got to him, he was lying on his side, clutching his left shoulder, but otherwise he looked ok.

As soon as he saw me, he almost hopped up to his feet and started looking around for the bike, saying "We gotta move the bike, man...it's in the middle of the road" ...even though it was not in the middle of the road. He staggered over to the bike before I could stop him & reached down and grabbed the handlebars to heave it up, still yelling for me to help him. At this point, he must've realized he made a horrible mistake, because he screamed in pain and dropped the bike like a rock. Realizing I should be thanking the heavens for not being dead, but unwilling to do anything about it, I finally told him to just sit down & chill out while I go for help...about 15 feet away to the door of the house in the neighborhood occupied apparently by exclusively deaf people.

I knocked on the door & a nice old lady answered. I don't remember much for a while after this, as i guess the real shock set in, but I guess one of us called an ambulance, because one was there within what seemed like seconds, and Mike, it turns out, had a broken collar bone, but was otherwise ok. I had some bad cuts & some srious bruises, but somehow they let me go without making me go to the hospital; I can barely remember an EMT checking me out, but I can't remember anything specific...other than the ambulance had orange lights when you looked at them up close, and I thought they looked different than they did on TV....

I also don't remember calling Joe & Eric to come pick me up, but I must have, because my next clear memory is them dropping me off in front of Gloria's house in the middle of the night, after the ambulance had taken Mike away, and asking me "Dude...you sure you wanna go back there tonight?". Well, I didn't really, but I did feel guilty for leaving....and I knew I had a hell of a story that she would just eat up(asshole mistake number...what number are we on?)....so I did.

I don't really remember telling her about it either, other than it didn't take her more than 2.5 seconds to turn from mad to oh-my-god-are-you-ok. And then we had sex again afterwards, and that I do remember. She had to do most of the work, but it was considerably better than it was earlier....considerably. In fact, that probably didn't help me to think too clearly about getting involved further...nor did all the nursing me back to health she did over the next couple of weeks (another thing that would recur in another situation later in life, I now see...). So, after that weekend, we were a couple, I guess. Going steady. Hooked up. Going out. My second 'official' girlfriend...how bad could it be, I figured? Surely, I'll at least learn something?
Dream on, boyo......