Too punk to drive

I spent the entire summer commuting to both of my bar gigs six days a week. I got tight with a small group of prep cooks and dish washers, We would meet on the roof of my job in Huntington and split a twelve pack before riding home to Costa Mesa together. I was hit by a car once; ran into a guard rail after drinking two bottles of Hennessey with a girl I met, and was run off the road this week by some guy in a pick-up truck. Two or three times I had my little brother pick me up from a stranger’s house only to realize later that my bike was locked to a fence, a stop sign or worse, still out on the person’s balcony. It was a good summer and I road my track bike all the way through. My mountain bike and bmx sat in the living room, untouched for almost four months due entirely to the intolerable heat. As it cools down, I’ve managed a couple of rides on both of the later but the pista remains a daily ride to work and school.


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