Don't Expect Me to Cry

In middle school, I tried to learn to sew. It didn't work out too well - my  Home Ec. teacher, Mrs. Bunner, looked at one of my seams and, defeated (as one must get teaching middle school kids how to sew), asked me: "What are you doing at that machine, Erica? Riding the wave?" (Don't worry, guys. I told her No.)

I won't forget Mrs. Bunner. Honestly. She taught me how to write a check. And to clean up the kitchen as you go. And that it was just fine that boys wanted to take Home Ec. She was a good lady, really. I shouldn't have called her Mrs. Bun-Head. Not only did it NOT make sense, it wasn't very nice. She also practiced a thing she called Uppers. If she heard a student say something negative about another student, she made the sour-puss say 3 nice things about the other kid. It's a nice ritual, you know? I can get caught up in negative shit so easily. And I do. Even if it was just to make Mrs. Bunner happy, the naysayer would have to buck up and pick out good stuff.

It's a goddamned attitude changer, I'll tell you that much. So, today I'm going to find some Uppers in my life - and even though, instead of being grateful, I want to be mad, I'm going to Mrs. Bunner the fuck out of today. You ready?

1. I have a bike. I have a bike that I love - It's sturdy and big and it folds in half. I inherited very little from my dad -among strong teeth, a slight problem with alcohol and easily toned muscles, he, also, left me this bike.  I ride this fucker with a serious outlook.  I ride it with a backpack and cutoffs and look like a 12 year old boy. I ride it with dresses on. And through high water. And to the bars. I'd ride it to hell and back.

2. Nirvana's Unplugged Album exists. It's so good and it's so good every single time I listen to it. I remember when I first bought this cd. Sirens started sounding: "Alert! Alert! This album will outlast most albums for you, young Erica." It has. I've grown with it. And who would've thought some punk-ass young kids from Seattle could do an acoustic set that would resonate with so many people for so many years? Jesus Christ, you know? Just listen to it. Listen to the first 3 seconds of Oh Me and tell me you don't feel it in your bones.

3.  One day I know I will be far from the spot I'm in now. And that's the best Upper I can think of.

late december back in '63

Yep, that's my bike. In the time of vintage Schwinns with baskets and cute girls in cute dresses with arm tattoos, riding them, mine is a mountain bike redeemed with Marlboro miles.
It's a boy's bike, too.
My bike is a monster truck - the kind people piece together from junkyards with Budweisers in their hands. My bike is that girl in gym class who can climb that damn rope...twice. My bike is steak and potatoes.

I love it.
I ride it around this neighborhood I live in with pride. In my cutoffs.

The first thing you should know about my bike is: it belonged to my dad.

The second thing you should know is: he diligently smoked a shit ton of cigarettes (Reds) to save the miles. If he saw a pack on the ground, he picked up the trash and ripped off the miles. He worked at the landfill, his eyes were always on the look-out for discarded carton cardboards - it was a religion. He saved the miles like they were on their way to perdition. 5 miles at a time -- working his way towards this Fuji mountain bike (that's, by the way, heavy as hell).

I remember the day it happened. He had enough miles to get this bike - which is great, because with all his DUIs, he really needed some transportation. Right on time, I thought. Like a miracle. Shiny and red with five speeds - perfect for riding around our little rural town, flipping the townie cops the middle finger and wearing this bike like a badge of honor.

It was a few summers before he died. He got this bike. Rode this bike. Wrote his name on tape and stuck it proudly down the seat-tube. (The tape is still there).

I ride my bike proudly. And while you are daintily pedaling your bike worth much more than mine, I know that a bike can be much more than a bike, it can be salvation.

I'd go to war on this steed - I'd go to war for this steed.

Amen.