The Night Ride

(I'm posting this one as a request. It's based on an actual event. Might want to keep the tissues nearby, unless you hate your parents...)

Things are never as they are when you’re a child. The world becomes imagination and symbiotic emotion. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t scared when we were stranded on the side of the road that night. The tire had blown and the old green Ford hobbled to the curb seeking respite from its wound. The dashboard blocked my view. I puzzled over the sudden slowing of the buildings outside which were no longer running by but walking, and then at last pausing for a breath. The great engine quieted and my Father made sounds of dissatisfaction and slid out into the night. Without a word I reached over and pulled the handle, the massive door swinging outward with a groan. I made sure I was positioned just right before making the distant leap onto the pavement. My Father was nearby now, legs like trees, muscular and imposing. His knees were right at eye-level so I reached out and poked one. I giggled. My Father made the journey down to the ground and surveyed the damage done to the tire. He shook his head. That was not good so I started to frown. He looked at me and ruffled my hair. I smiled again. I looked at him as he rose again to his full height. I thought he might bump his head into the moon.

The area was a kaleidoscope of zooming cars and streetlamps. Headlights came brighter and then flashed by into dull red eyes. It was a long road. I looked both ways and saw it stretch on into secret pirate lairs and other dimensions.

My Father had his bicycle in the back of the truck. I saw his arms like a forklift as he lifted the shimmering vehicle from the truck bed and set it on the ground. The red Diamondback, I remembered, would eventually be stolen, but tonight it would propel us into dreams.

Within moments he bent to take hold of me and shot me into the sky. I was a rocket man flying on giants’ hands. My trip ended with a soft landing on broad shoulders. My eager paws shot around the wide forehead, clinging like a koala. Before I knew it we were off, sailing on the night wind.

How alive the night breeze is when you’re a speeding bullet. The wind whipped tears from my eyes, or maybe somehow in my youth I was able to comprehend the beauty of the moment. My father was a machine, cranking and turning, puffing and pushing. He was solid and unwavering. The spokes underneath were a mesh of sparks in the yellow light, set ablaze by a mad welder. Cars came by, much slower now. They were not so fast, not compared us. I cried out in delight.

We went on forever down that road, Father and son, until at last the bicycle slowed and came to a halt at an auto shop. My heart sank as the journey came to an end. I was lowered to the ground. The bright auto shop was an island in the darkness. My Father stormed the stronghold, slipping into the thick fluorescent light. We had finally reached our goal, but it was the journey that I longed for. It was the journey that whistled through my mind and teased my imagination. He returned, rolling a brand new tire as I stood quietly next to the bicycle. I couldn’t have lifted it if I tried.

It was then that I found myself atop his shoulders again. My face lit up and my jaw dropped. Tire in one hand and handlebar in the other, my Father steamed down the road into the night once more. Superman didn’t hold a candle to this giant below, all pistons and cranks pushing swiftly forward, unaffected by the staggering load. I sailed on up high where I could see everything. He was invincible, I was sure. We slipped away like ghosts at home in the darkness.

Now I am much older. I have traveled much and seen many things. I think somewhere inside my father still rides, much like that night. That figure will never die, that invulnerable machine chugging on into forever. He churns in the back of my mind through adversity and struggle and it gives me strength. I hope that one day I can be the same man to my children as he has been to me. I hope to be a steadfast colossus to them, unhindered and ever supportive. I have traveled much and seen many things, but rare is anything as pure as a child’s love for his Dad.