Dedicated to Bobby Paulver - whoever you are, I am not sure. If my dad did not say thank you for letting him borrow your bike; he did years later with a dentured smile.
This morning, I plucked a grey hair from my eyebrow. Today it occured to me it had been a long time since I rode a bike and I can’t remember the last time my 18 year old son has rode a bike. I am a single mom and just lost track of time. Fuck another grey, soon I won’t have eyebrows left to raise. As I plucked yet another; my mind pedalled backwards miles away.
******
Kahaa = = = Kahaa = = = Kahaa = = = breathed my dad on the ventilator. Doc said the surgery was a success. I’m not sure if you have seen anyone on a ventilator but they don’t fucking look okay. You have all kinds of uncomfortable thoughts flood your mind and your tears drown your heart.
The sun is shining outside but here in the ICU...there is a chorus of ventilators chirping in almost dark rooms. Shuffles of surgical blue ghosts pass with back and forth with barely a sound. Red, green and white monitors are like city lights in the distance. It reminded me of my panicked commute here.
My son, Ben, and I were already on a leisurely road trip to Boston to see my Dad when I got the call. Immediately we left our halfway point, Chicago, as the sun set. I wanted to be there now, with my dad. I couldn't so I turned on a playlist of a bunch of oldies that my dad always liked. Mostly country like Hank Williams with a bunch of Creedence peppered in for good measure. Through the windshield I see a waning crescent moon. Driving down a path of darkness in a hurry that would take at least 10 more hours, I saw my son sleeping. I could see his breath fog and unfog the passenger side window as he slept. I was wide awake and my knuckles were white wrapped around the steering wheel.
I see a bad moon a-rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
Don't go 'round tonight
It's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon….
“Jesus Christ! Next Song, Siri Play Next Song.”
Fuck, I pressed my foot further down on the gas pedal. My son was still sleeping.
There's a place up ahead and I'm going
Just as fast as my feet can fly
Come away, come away if you're going
Leave the sinkin' ship behind Come on the rising wind
We're going up around the bend
Ooooh!
Bring a song and a smile for the banjo
Better get while the getting's good
Hitch a ride to the end of the highway...
Holding a foam coffee cup the doctor explained, “He's got a long road to his recovery. Taking the tube out will be hard but he won’t remember that. It will be painful even to breathe for a while so we’ll give him a pillow to hug. Your dad is lucky to be alive.”
He didn’t look alive. His facial expression was totally blank and his body was perfectly still except for the up and down of his beer belly.
“Listen, I’ve never seen anything like the inside of your dad, his heart, well, it was and is badly damaged, it’s been that way for a long time but there was a little tiny vein growing on his heart, basically he was living on a thread.”
I looked at the doctor's face. I could hear no words. I could only hear the ventilator until she put her hand on my shoulder, tactically pulling into focus.
“Listen, I will leave you with him for a bit. He can hear you. You can hold his hand. He knows you’re here but he won’t remember.”
Then she disappeared into the distant fluorescent lit hallway.
“Dad, we're here. I love you”
I looked over at my son standing miles away on the other side of the bed. No life cycle of pets, dogs, guinea pigs, or fish can prepare someone for this.
I held my dad's hand; it was cool. It did not clasp mine.
“Hey Dad, you’re right. I am a goddamn liberal.”
“Jesus Christ Mom,” my son scowled under his breath; my dad squeezed my hand and gagged on plastic.
“I was just seeing if he could hear us. Shhh... dad it's okay,” I said as I kissed his hand.
His breathing returned to the mechanical cadence, Kahaa = = = Kahaa = = = Kahaa = = =...
For me this seemed like the longest day; probably not for my dad, a Vietnam Vet, 82nd Airborne, a paratrooper.
“You got this dad, you’re going home - ‘All The Way.’”
With another purple heart, he made it home. Then when appropriate, I left him alone; went back home, miles away, with my son, Ben. We went on with our lives.
My dad went to lots of doctors and to physical therapy; he would pull his old 280 lb body on a stationary bike every week day.
His physical therapist put a map on the wall. Put a push pin in Boston, MA.
“You are here, Only 2,848 miles to Denver, CO.”
************
With a coffee mug in one hand and a briefcase in the other, I headed out the door for work.
“Oh Dad? Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me. What ?”
His skin hung loosely off his skeleton. He looked younger but still old. His wire rimmed glasses framed a youthful twinkle in his eye as he blurted, “I want a bike.”
“I had no idea you were coming. How did you get here?”
“I rode a bike….not a real bike…”
My face squished in confusion, “What?”
“I drove my car here, now can we get a bike?”
“A bike?”
“Yeah”
“I gotta go to work. Okay, Okay. Go inside, make yourself at home.”
“Call in sick”
“Dad, meet me in the middle. Let me go to work. Get things in order. I’ll come home early and we can look at bikes.”
“Sounds good”
“Love you and good to see you”
***********
It was late afternoon when we picked up a bike at a cycle shop across town.
We got to Ralston Trail just before sunset. While the sun waned a new moon hung in the sky.
There, I explained the 3 gears and how to shift while he waved off swarms of gnats.
“Kinda like a stick shift?”
“Yeah Dad.”
“You know, I have never had a bike before.”
“What! not even as a kid?”
“Nope.”
“What the fuck...do you even know how to ride one?”
All of the sudden, I was feeling very anxious. I didn’t want him to end up in the hospital. I wished that I had known that BEFORE spending $600 on a bike.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s been 70 years but they say you never forget.”
Fuck. In the darkening sky, I looked around Ralston Trail. There was not a soul out except the silhouette of the new moon. Just cement trails, dirt trails and Ralston Creek.
“Dad, let’s make sure your helmet’s on correctly.”
I pushed the helmet forward until it was 2 fingers above fluffy grey eyebrows and tightened the silky green straps.
He straddled his bike looking as if he did not know how to start.
“Like this” I demonstrated.
I cringed as he pushed his right foot down and propelled wobbly forward.
My body motioned like a bowler trying to straighten the course of the ball headed towards the gutter.
His left foot found the other pedal. And he was off.
I guess the saying is true. I hopped on my bike and caught up to him.
Riding along his side he explained, “I never had a bike but Bobby Paulver let me borrow his bike sometimes. He had more money. 12 kids in my family….anyway I rode his bike whenever I could.”
I coasted, remembering that I had never seen my dad on a bike. I remember that I always had a bike when i was a kid. Red tricycle, a pink Huffy, a black 5 speed with a banana seat and my favorite was blue Schwinn ten speed with clear blue tape around the bars.
As my mind wandered he pulled ahead. Our bikes lined up in generational order.
“Slow down dad, you're getting too far ahead!”
My dad was a good distance ahead of me but I could still see the smile on my dad’s face. It stretched past his ears.
Together we both rode in our childhoods.
As I pedaled my RockHopper to keep up with my dad, I rode my blue Schwinn 10 speed around and around the block. I ignored calls that dinner was ready. I felt the humidity of the midwest and the air pass my body. The earth was in motion and so was I. I looked straight ahead, straightened my back, and one by one I lifted my hands off. The rose and my body fought to keep balanced. My mind felt the blank slate of youth and heart felt freedom.
In the distance I saw my dad, not as a dad but as a child. I realized I knew very little about him. I did know he was experiencing joy. As my dad pedalled his 3 speed, he rode Bobby Paulver’s bike. He was riding in Brimson Indiana, past a rickety vegetable stand he was supposed to be working at. With 11 other siblings his mom was too occupied to care. The pedals pressed hard into his bare feet but on his face he wore a huge grin.
“Dad, where are you going?”
His wheel went off the cement path to the single track dirt trail.
“I learned to ride in the dirt.” he smiled back.
There he rode up and down the dirt path.
“Dad, it’s getting late we should probably head back.”
He chimed the bell on his handlebars. Over and over again, he pedalled to his full speed, took his feet off the pedals, extending his legs wide enough for his toes to be tickled by the tall grass on either side of the dirt trail.
He stopped at the top of a hill. He walked his bike to the cement path to wait for me.
When I summited, he pointed.
“Look! A Harvest Moon coming right out of the ground.”
Effortlessly, he mounted his bike and pushed off the hill.
I remember his silhouette against the rising moon.
Not looking forward, he smiled back at me, “Last one there is a rotten egg!”
THE END
“Yesterday and days before
Sun is cold and rain is hard
I know been that way for all my time
'Til forever, on it goes
Through the circle, fast and slow,
I know it can't stop, I wonder
I want to know
Have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know
Have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?”
—Creedence Clearwater Revival
©2020 by TC McCracken. All rights reserved.