Leap

photo by joeball

The important thing is that no one broke a neck—not their own, nor anyone else’s.

Few things, I expect, would put a damper in one’s evening more effectively than having to see your friend or acquaintance hauled from a lake, limp and bleeding, and reduced to eating through a straw in a wheelchair for the rest of his or her life.

Fortunately, (and perhaps somewhat surprisingly), there was none of that, in spite of the slipperiness of the dock, the wonkiness of the ramp, and the intoxicated enthusiasm of riders as they hurtled towards the water on a brakeless BMX bike that wobbled and fishtailed on the plastic wood walkway.

My heart was in my mouth more than once as I could envision wheels sliding sideways and heads hitting corners, but instead of worst fears being realized, it was all good fun until someone loses an eye—and since no one did, “Woo-hoo!  Spring Break!” (To quote the departing Dr. Tittlefitz, who, if I recall correctly, didn’t cycle off the ramp, but who is pretty much doing the same thing in his life as he leaps headlong into the Midwest, Godspeed, sweet prince.)

Presumably, mad math skills could compute trajectories of flying two-wheelers, but even the most innumerate among us can calculate that bikes, beer, (a few) costumes, sun, swimsuits, and peer pressure will add up to times that might require something more like 3-D IMAX to really capture on film.

We may all be living the best action-adventure buddy-comedy neo-noir musical extravaganza ever and it’s in surround sound smell-o-vision, too.   No one knows how it’s going to end, but it seems like a scene where the hero rides his trusty steel horse off into the sunset ought to be in there somewhere.

Flames shot out of the top of the chimney at Gasworks and the shelter smoldered but didn’t ignite.

That’s some Oscar-winning performance, the role of a lifetime, no dry eyes in the house.