Excerpt from Via Como El Diablo
By Ratius Roadius
Mercury Rising #7, August 1992
The light is just about to change as I stomp down hard on the pedal. I've got to get in front of that bus or get stuck sucking fumes. It’s springtime in Philly and I'm feeling like the luckiest dog in the world. They pay me to ride a bike?! On this beautiful sunny day! Man, I'm lovin' life and livin' large; the best beer, the kill pro, and a Schwinn Cruiser 5-speed with white wall, studded balloon tires. Black frame with white trim, an uncut basket and an experimental posi-trac system where, upon shifting, the "click" takes place in the rear derailleur, not in the shifter. It is from this vantage that I can only look down in pity upon them all. From the dirt-caked homeless person, digging through our refuse to sustain themselves just a little longer. To the mindless suit, ensnared in his boring routine and his mortgage, loan payment, insurance payment, and high pressure jobs with impossible deadlines. They're all fucked and I got it made; top of the world!
Now I'm pulling ahead and cutting over to the right, just barely in front of the bus, slowly extending my lead. High on an adrenalin rush brought on by a mixture of fear and physical exertion, oblivious to the burning in my legs. Faster now, that wind feels good on my sweety face. I stop for no one, not the cops, or the thieves, or the ho's, scammers, and panhandlers. I leave them all behind me. I hear "Hey, you wanna good..." or "Wait, let me ask..." Their voices trail off. I don't listen, I don't listen to their lies, laws, or pleas. Untouchable!
Way out in front now, relaxing a little and enjoying the feel of my cruiser's momentum, allowing me to shift gear. Just then my chain comes fully off the front chain ring. My Chuck Taylor slaps the street as the pedal digs into my Achilles tendon, drawing blood. Losing the battle to maintain balance, on the way down I'm vaguely aware of a woman screaming. Or is it just a ringing in my ears as my heed smacks the pavement? The shadow of the bus is racing towards me and the high-pitch wail in my head is joined by the angry screech of brakes frying. The sound gets higher and louder, the bus shadow is on me now and the noise tears at my nerves.
Fuck, I think, now I'm dead. My life is flashing by, so I figure the end is near. Then, as if in slow motion I roll over end look up, as the bus' grill stops inches from my face. Not as untouchable as I thought, I guess.
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