“Dude. You have to get forward on the pegs. Go as fast as you can up the bump, then on the lip, lean as far forward as you can.”
“Butt Crust, you have to turn sooner unless you like smashing your face into the fence.”
“Martha, I’m going to jump Death.”
“Not without a helmet you’re not.”
“Dude, you can use mine.”
“Are you gonna’ watch?”
Those were rad days, spent at the BMX jumps at Mission Trails Regional Park, watching and filming the boys in my hood as they rode, practiced, fell, broke their bikes and very often executed amazing feats of derring do. Their bikes were emblazoned with decals: “Rave Sucks,” “Offspring,” “Bad Religion,” “Alice in Chains.” Jimmy had copied out all the lyrics for “Rooster” and stuck them on his bike. They were skin-kneed knights on tiny-wheeled chargers and those were some of the best days of my life.