I was close to my Dad and doing something that impressed him was important to me. Admittedly, I didn't mind demonstrating (ok, showing out) in front of anyone else either. Getting my hands on a bike like this went a long way in accomplishing both those goals. These things were fast for the time, lightweight with aluminum fuel tank and components and top-grade plastics. Aluminum rims were special then also. The power was awesome for a 125cc machine and was delivered at the top end of the rpm range with almost nothing from bottom to mid-range, which made it kind of hard for plain Joe to ride. Made me feel kind of special.
The feel of the bike was awesome, it set low and snuggled you up close to the tank. The bike was narrow and felt very light. The front forks were a bit small and could be damaged if pushed too hard, however, they were as much as one would expect for the era. The rear suspension worked very well for bikes of this era also, I busted both shocks on mine, but I pushed it pretty hard.
I could not get enough of riding it, every spare moment I had I devoted to it. I rode this thing to death! Dad built me a practice track at the house. It had a couple of sweeping turns in an old pasture with one large terrace I was able to go up and down. We had a friend with a tractor and blade come over and make a few small jumps in it. The rest was just switched back turns. One area was low and stayed wet most of the time. It became very rutted and so rough I bent the front forks on the bike hitting the ruts and holes so hard. During this time I became acquainted with Steve, he came to our school and had a passion for dirt bikes like myself. He had one of those treasured German DKWs! We became lifelong friends, I was riding with him in the Pine Co. (we weren't supposed to be on the Pine Co., but it was a good place to ride) and I completely destroyed the engine on this little bike.
There was a race track in Perryville TN, some of the older folks may remember it. My Dad took me down one Saturday and let me ride on the track. I absolutely love it! The jumps were awesome! The turns were banked and it just had a (real) feel to it. The guy at the track seem to be somewhat impressed and told us I would do pretty good. It was going to be my first experience with racing, and I was looking forward to testing myself against the other riders in the competition.
However, on the weekend of the race, my Dad came home drunk. He was a wonderful Dad, but he like the rest of us was far from perfect. He had a drinking problem that was an embarrassment to me. It was something he would struggle with for many years before coming to the Lord. After his conversion, he was certainly a different person, wonderful to see what the Lord did for him. He would continue to struggle with things as he grew in Christ, but the change in his life was indisputable.
However, this weekend was not going to go well. He still wanted to go, but I refused to go with him like he was. Some strong words were exchanged and he finally picked up my riding boots and helmet and said if I was too chicken (****) to go race he would do it. He loaded my bike in the truck and left. Of course, he didn't go race it, probably went back to the joint. He never mentioned it again, it kind of went like that with him. I don't know if he remembered the conflict his drinking caused in our family or was embarrassed to talk about what happened. That evening endeavor would put an end to my start at racing, it would be several years later before that opportunity would come again.
The struggles in our lives are real, they leave their memories and sometimes their scars. But they make us who we are, and if we yield them to God, we are the better for them. It is strange that the ones who love us the most often hurt us the most. It is the result of the fallen creatures we are, yet, as the struggles are real, so is the Grace of God even the more real to deliver us to His intended purpose for His own Glory. As I look back on this evening in my life, at the time it seemed to be a profound disappointment. But in the large scheme, it was just a difficult day that came and passed. The struggles my Dad had made the Grace of God even the more glorious when the time came that he would profess Christ. He was able to be a part of my racing years later when finally I did get a chance to test myself.
Hope you enjoyed the story and found something useful and perhaps a memory of your own surfaced.
God bless,
David
No comments:
Post a Comment