~ Game Changer ~

~ Game Changer ~

It was, so far in my petty, pitiful life, the worst day yet. George Washington Carver Middle School let me out six days earlier. I finished the ninth grade somehow and was not looking forward to entering Menchville High School next year. If I could figure out how to survive my Dad’s reaction, I would just drop out. I know Middle School years work different now but this was back in 1978. Each afternoon since the so called graduation, I had spent waiting for the Mailman and rifling through his deliveries. Today I found what I was waiting for. My report card. I knew what was in it. Mostly D’s and an F. My parents were going to end life as I knew it. I couldn’t stop it from happening, but I could kick that can down the road a bit. I crumpled the unopened envelop and put it in my pocket. Your thinking that’s not the end of the world, right? There’s more.

I rode my crappy bike I had named the Tank, to the Western Auto store every day for months to ogle the perfect bicycle that I would never be able to afford. It had become part of my daily routine. I got this one second hand many years ago. It was ugly and worn out, but it was mainly crappy because of the new bike I wanted so desperately. I decided to stop by the Community Center on the way. The reason I often went by the Center was to see a girl. Always from afar, but not today. She was on the swim team and would be there practicing. Her name was Molly and she was farther out of my league than a Chihuahua hunting with a pack of Beagles. She was only fifteen and she already had nice boobies. Buxom, perfect blessings from God. Long blonde hair, beautiful, smart, funny. I was convinced that God created her to mock my vacant existence. I had been in love with her since the fourth grade and she had no clue who I was. Next year she would be going to a different high school so, it was now or never. She was toweling off as I approached her. Summoning my courage, I was going to try a pick up line that was sure to work. I heard it from Chuck Norris. Movie? Interview? I can’t remember. For me Chuck Norris was the man. My favorite actor, my hero, my inspiration.

“Molly.” I was nervous and accosted more than greeted her.

She shook out her wet locks and looked at me quizzically. She was a goddess in the clingy white one piece bathing suit. “Yes?”

Almost overcome with anxiety, I sucked it up and said it. “Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?”

I thought she was going to smile when someone pushed my shoulder and it all went to hell. It was Blanchard. We had been in the same school since the 2nd grade. He and his two minions the Nasty Grasti Twins, were always the toughest guys around. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard Porky.” He and his cohorts started laughing.

My world began caving in on itself. Although I could stand to lose a few pounds, I didn’t think of myself as actually fat. Plus others were watching and worse, Molly had witnessed it. I had to respond. Trying to sound menacing I said, “Don’t call me Porky.”

“Why not, Porky? What are you gonna do about it, Porky? Look at him Nasti, he’s going to try something.”

This was it. My first fight ever. Since my idol is Chuck Norris you’re expecting something spectacular, right? Well, I grabbed his hair and he proceeded to beat the shit out of me right there in front of God and Molly.

So there I was an hour later at the Western Auto store to drool over my dream bicycle, suage my wounded ego, and contemplate life without Debbie or self-respect. I pondered the blue Cenelli road bike for a few minutes, then left. I was unlocking the Tank from the rack and noticed something odd unfolding in the parking lot. An attractive very pregnant woman, youngish with long hair in a ponytail, was putting groceries in her car. A creepy man in dirty coveralls and gloves was literally skulking up behind her. He grabbed her, hand around her mouth and jammed a flashlight into her neck, causing her body to go limp. No, it hit me. It was a stun gun. I thought they only existed in the movies. I scanned the shopping center and there was no one around. I hollered, “Hey you! Leave her alone!” He gave me a cold piercing stare, then dragged her away. I almost panicked, then calmed myself. I needed to do something. Call 911, yeah. Damn, no dimes for the pay phone. Tell them in the store. Wait. He was already putting her in a short body, black Chevy Van. By the time the cops arrived he would be long gone. He was driving away. I had seen enough R rated Biker movies to know that woman’s life was about to be shattered forever, that was if she and the baby survived. What if it had been Molly? He was driving off and I made a decision. I jumped on my bike and followed him, saying his license plate number over and over in my mind.

Keeping up through the parking lots was easy. Once he pulled onto the highway, it became more challenging. Between the 25 mph speed limit, the stop lights and the heavy traffic, I still managed to stay close . But when I saw the 45 mph speed limit sign up ahead after the last stop light for quite a while, I knew I was in trouble. My legs were already trembling and racked with pain. Chuck once said in a movie, “If you really need it, dig deep and your body will respond.” I set my jaw, ignored the pain and kept on.

He took off from the light and began to pull away. I couldn’t keep up now. I was foolish, it was over. Wait. Farther down the road I saw his brake lights and he turned right. I recognized it. An old dirt access road that followed the four main power lines that ran through the city. I knew that road. It ran about a mile and stopped at an Electrical Sub Station. People illegally dumped trash down there. Once, years ago, I rode in a ways when my father wanted to dispose of an old mattress. I knew now that I could catch him. And what would I do when I got there? It didn’t matter, providence was with me. I whipped into a Motel Six and ran into the office. What should I say? A pregnant lady was kidnapped and I’m chasing the bad guy? Sounded weak, like a prank. Barely able to talk, I wheezed out, “Down the old Access road. My friend fell. He’s hurt bad. Call 911!” I called back as I left. “And there’s a fire!” I heard the old woman telling me to wait, but I couldn’t. I knew I might be too late already.

On the dirt road, my pace had slowed dramatically. Legs screaming with each push down on the pedal. I had reached my limit when I saw the van sitting up ahead. What to do till the cops came. What if they didn’t come? First thing, I needed to get him away from the lady. I quickly improvised a plan based on one of Chuck’s movies.

I stopped my bike about 30 feet from the van and turned it for a quick getaway. From inside, I could hear the sounds of scuffling and the horrible man’s voice yelling something unintelligible. I dug deep in my pocket for my Schrade pocketknife and opened it. When I tried to puncture the front left tire, the blade bounced off. Determined I took it with both hands and swung it like a golf club with all my might. It pierced the rubber and buried to the hilt. Then I kettle drum banged my fist on the side of the van and taunted, “Come On Out Old Man!” I heard the back door opening and ran for my bike as the air whooshed from the tire joyously.

I was on my bike ready. The hideous man stepped out of the van, looked at the flat hissing it’s last breaths, then saw me. “You!” He snarled as recognition burned in his eyes.

Every nerve in my body was tingling. I had to keep him occupied so I stared negotiating. “You have a flat and the cops are coming. Let the lady go.”

“You Son-of-a-Bitch. I will kill you.” He looked back in the van and yelled, “Don’t you move.” Then he came at me like a seething mass of hate.

I sped off. He was gaining at first and got close but then when I got up to speed he fell back. After about 50 yards and looking tired he was giving up. I heard the van start. I slid to a stop and saw it limping on the flat tire through a U turn. I roared, “Hey pussy, I’m gonna kick your ass.” It had the desired effect and with fresh rage he kept coming. I waited. He didn’t even see the van, driven by the pregnant lady wobbling straight for him. Just as sirens blared and lights flashed coming towards us from the highway, she hit him knocking him several feet and skidded to a halt. The repellent man limping badly, ran into the woods. She got out, her clothes torn and disheveled and swooned, collapsing to the ground like a falling bag of dirt. The firetruck stopped and three men jumped out. Two went to the woman. Pointing, I told the driver before he could speak, “He ran into the woods.” The Police and an Ambulance showed up as well. Everyone was busy and I still don’t know why, but I casually rode away on my bike, feeling truly happy for the first time in my life.

That night at dinner everything felt different. I realized for the first time that my older sister was cute. I suddenly no longer saw my parents as authoritarian adversaries but simply two people who loved me. We were having peas. Normally I pissed and moaned about eating them. Mom would insist and demand it. I would resist and we would end up negotiating a specific number that I was required to eat. Tonight I took a spoonful on my own and ate them cheerfully. I could tell she was pleased but seemed at a loss as to how to respond, maybe afraid to break the spell I was under. Then she spoke to Dad. “Jay? Did you hear about the pregnant woman being kidnapped at the Sherwood Shopping Center down the street?”

“No Honey, what happened?”

“Apparently she was saved by some teenage boy and he took off and no one knows who he was.” As they discussed how brave the kid was and how bad crime was getting the way adults do, I ate silently, swelling with pride. I considered standing and proclaiming that it was me. I saved the woman. I was the hero but decided against it. There was something powerful about knowing when no one else knew. Besides, what was it Gammy always said, “Virtue is its own reward and even if no one else knows you did a righteous deed, God knows.” I retrieved the crumpled report card from my pocket and handed it to my Dad.

**********

Six months later, my life had changed significantly. Molly and I were dating. Well sort of. My grades were up. Not A’s but pretty good. I joined the Wrestling team at school and found out I had a gift for it. Started Karate lessons at the YMCA. Blanchard was wary of me now and the Grasti’s would say hi to me in the halls. I was mowing lawns in the neighborhood and took a paper route. Saving money because I still wanted that bike.

I had just left the Western Auto for my now weekly excursion to yearn for it. I was about to leave when a young woman came towards me from the parking lot, pushing a baby stroller with a shuffling run and hollering, “Wait! Wait!” It was her. The pregnant lady. She ran up and hugged me. Not a mom hug or a friend hug, but a real, I am hugging the shit out of you, kind of girl hug. I could feel her boobies smashing against my chest. I felt my face turning red. “It’s you,” She said breathlessly. She held me back at arm’s length. “I knew I would see you again someday. Why did you leave?” I didn’t really know why and just shrugged. “Well I’ve got you now. I can’t…I could never thank you enough for what you did. You saved me and my baby. Did you know that man was a murderer and serial rapist. Now he is on trial for killing 6 women. All because of you.” She motioned to her child and got a little choked up. The kid was engrossed in the mysteries of a slobbery pacifier but then looked up at me and smiled, like he knew who I was. It was so cool. “You’re a real hero. Our hero.”

“I’m just glad you two are okay.” The grin wouldn’t leave my face.

“What’s your name?”

“Bobby.”

“How old are you?”

“16 next week.”

“Oh man are we gonna do up your birthday. Well Bobby, I’m Michelle and this is Charles. We call him Charlie. You know you have two friends for life now. I have to introduce you to my husband. I can’t wait to meet your family. This is so exciting! Bobby, is there anything I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, there must be something you really want. Maybe I can help you get it.”

“Well there is a bike here in this Western Auto that I have been wanting for quite a while. I’m saving my money but it is so expensive. 500 dollars.”

She pushed my shoulder. “Wow. That is pricey. Come on. Show it to me. Pleeease!”

“Okay. Can I push Charlie?”

“Sure.” As we walked back to the Western Auto so I could show my new friend my dream bike, she locked her arm in mine and raised an interesting point. “Your almost 16. Maybe you should be saving for a car instead of a bike. I have a friend……………”