#rustybike

When I was a kid I wanted a bike for Christmas. We were poor, not like starving but not a lot of money. My parents couldn’t afford a bike. There was a total of five kids. There was no way. Christmas came and no bike under the tree. Sadness and disappointment. My father took a lot of pictures back in the day and had a ton of those old 35 mm film black and gray canisters. He wrapped some up in Christmas wrapping paper. Mine had a note inside, written on a piece of cardboard:

“There’s a bike in the garage.”

Excitement!

I imagined a shiny, red, and chrome beach cruiser with white wall tires.

I didn’t get what I exactly pictured in my dreams that day. Maybe it’s better that I didn’t.

My father was a hard working man. Alcoholic. Orphaned at the ripe old age of nine years old. Wild. A veteran.

Family is more important than any possession. Even if they’re fucked up. They teach you the hardest lessons in life and make you strong.