My First Bicycle

I remember when I received my first bike. It was Christmas Day, 1985. Santa had once again forgotten to stop by. Mother said it was because he couldn't remember where we lived. Dad said it was because he was drunk. I think Santa must have been drunk because I wrote him every year and always put our address in big bold letters on the envelope. I always suspected my Dad took him to the bar whenever he showed up and got him so liquored up he forgot to leave the presents. Either that or his elves didn't update his database properly. I kind of hate those little green buttholes.

Anyway, the stockings were still hung by the chimney with care, deflated and sad looking. Sissy shouted something obscene at Dad and ran to her room crying. Dad huffed and took a swig of his "special medicine." Mother shook her head and and bit into her morning drumstick. I felt confused, but remained hopeful that next year Santa would finally come. That's when Dad looked out the window and said, "What the fuck?"

A small bicycle was laying on the lawn. I squealed with delight. A brand new bike, just for me! Santa really did remember! I ran outside, still clad in my Superman footy pajamas, to get a closer look. It was old and rusted, with deflated tires, a broken bell and no chain. The handlebars had no handles, the seat was just a pole. It was beautiful. Dad cursed the neighbors as I hugged my new bike tightly.

Dad tried to throw the bike over the fence, but I insisted Santa left it for me. Dad grumbled an agreement and went into the garage to see what he could do. He found some old bike tubes, took the chain and banana seat off of Sissy's bike (who was standing in the doorway looking huffy) and affixed them to Rusti (that's what I named her). I was ready to go. Dad spent the day teaching me how to ride. He held onto the seat as I peddled with gusto. Soon, I could peddle on my own as Dad sprawled out on the lawn, his bottle of special medicine close at hand.

This was the best Christmas I ever had. Even better than the one when the cops came. Don't feel bad for Sissy, Mother said she got "VD" from Bobby Walker down the street, so at least she got something.