this week's letter 9/16/2009

The solemn click of a dead starter fueled my anxiety for the coming day. Why me!? I exclaimed with a pitiful voice reaching towards the heaven as if to receive an answer from the almighty one. It was the third time this week the car had given me problems. I quickly opened the screeching door heading for the hammer in the back of my dads truck. After a few minutes of scrambling around in the hay, cow turds and whatever else might have been in the back of that thing i found an old rusty shoe hammer. Mumbling under my breath I climbed underneath the ole velle to see if i could get a good swing at the troublesome starter. My shirt my pants were all dirty stained i was sure for the rest of the day. Tink, tink, tink, was all that was to be heard as the fourth swing busted the hammer in half. Annoyed i climbed out from under the car thankful i was not yet late and proceeded to climb into the blue shag bucket seat of the old car. I put my head down and closed my eyes, chanting over and over please start, please start. click, nothing. Click, nothing. My chest sagged. I knew there wasn't anything else i could do. My thoughts were many and my minutes were few. I knew my mother would not let me borrow her truck(for reasons unknown) and my dads vehicles if they ran were not worthy of getting on the freeway. Then a thought came to me, ride your four wheeler! Whether it was the little devil on my shoulder or the little angel giving me this idea i don't know. The idea seemed so good i couldn't stop smiling and patting myself on the back for thinking of such a plan. The trek was about fifteen miles. I using my math skills determined that it would probably take me five minutes longer to cruise the windy back road. I later remembered my grade in math wasn't too high. My pitiful little 125 started almost as good as my dads 69 Chevelle. Of course it was about ten minutes later that i realized that. It finally puttered to life, smoke for a second pouring out the exhaust pipe. I felt so bad for the little bike thinking of all the abuse it had went throughthe last two years. There wasn't a minute that i was not in school that i was not on it puttering around in the desert making new trails and hills. Excitement hit me again as i realized i was now going to use it as a transportation to school! That meant i could ride it after school! I day dreamed about the unknown hills and terrain that were in logandale where my school was located. It was finally warmed up. I cut the choke off and the exhaust cleared up. I climbed on slipping my faceless helmet that i had found in the back yard over my head. I closed my eyes aware that there was still dirt in it from its adventures with the dogs. The strap was gone having been the favorite part of my two dogs. It had no safe way to stay on my head. The straps being chewed off by obvious means. I proceeded from the back of my house in the direction of the narrows road. It was at the time the only road that i was aware of that would go from moapa to logandale. It of course took much longer than i anticipated. I finally arrived on the last stretch of highway towards the school. The church right next to the school was the safe zone. The highway was a snare with an unusual amount of cops waiting there to pull over unsafe teenagers. I held my breath and proceeded down the blind road. Going a whopping 60 miles an hour i was now only a short distance from the church. Not surprisingly i passed right by a red and blue. It was the worst kind too a highway patrol. He turned on his lights yelling through the loud speaker “pull off the road”. I froze. The realization hit me that if my parents found out i had ridden my four wheeler to school there would be painful consequences. I guess it was the little mischievous shoulder devil that had given me the idea. I knew now that if i got pulled over they would inevitably find out. I gunned it. I had that little thing screaming now going atleast 70. the cop was hot on my tail still yelling at me through the loud speaker. Pull over! Pull over! My blood ran cold i knew i couldn't out run him. I turned into the parking lot of the school. He quit yelling through the loud speaker. He knew he had me. All these thoughts were running through my head as i went round the round about at the school. After about four circles i started getting dizzy. Luckily i was late and few students stared as i was getting chased by this highway patrolman. I pulled out of the round about weaving around cars in hopes i could shake him. He followed suit. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel, right in front of me was a dirt road that led out to the hills. I steered my little baby in that direction knowing if i made it a hundred more yards i could lose him. There was no way that his car would be able to make it through the hills. My heart seemed to lurch and gain new life as i neared the entrance to the trail. Putter, putter, putter. My eyes widened, my speed slowed, the engine was losing its life. I realized GAS! I reached down to turn the petcock to reserve. My action was in vain as i realized that i had left it on reserve the previous time i had run low on gas. Without even shifting down i let the four wheeler roll to a stop knowing that my ole man was going to tan my hide with one of his rodeo belts. The officer walked up beside me. The only thing that moved on me was the veins in my hand as my white knuckles continued to clench the rubber grips of my four wheeler. Are you deaf boy!, asked the officer. There was no answer from me. The words were being processed from my brain but, were not making it to my mouth. I finally came back to the real world turning my head slightly towards the officer and said, no sir. He asked me how fast i was going. I tried my hardest to give him the puppy dog face as i turned and stated, “i dunno maybe 60 or 70 believing whole heartedly that was the speed i had been traveling. The experience seemed to happen and be over it would have been more appropriate to say as the speed of light. I knew he would not understand that statement. With a half grin he said, you were going 35 miles an hour. He then asked me who my parents were. i replied proudly Bill and Susan Pulsipher. With a chuckle he said, i have never experienced or seen anything like what just happened. My terrified puppy face then turned to a puzzled look. He said, in the 22 years i have been a police officer never has anyone ever tried to run from me on a 1986 Honda 125! that has got to be the funniest thing that has ever happened to me he said almost falling on the ground laughing his gray mustache twitching with his upper lip. I thought to my self that the experience was more terrifying then funny. What were you thinking anyway? he said finally getting it back together. I explained the whole morning and the reasoning behind me riding my four wheeler to school. He then with a little bit of pity,(which never happens) asked me if i had any experience working on my get away vehicles. I replied that i had just applied for a job at off road extreme, the ATV shop down the road. But my knowledge was limited to the small motors that moved our wheel lines. Randomly he said I know your old man. He delivered firewood to me some years back and i still remember how he had all you kids helping unload and stack it at my house. I believe that he has raised you well but for some reason or other you have left the beaten path today for reasons only a teenager would understand. The rest of his speech was good I'm sure but i quit listening about there. Blah blah blah and I'm going to let you go with a warning if you promise to never drive another unlicensed vehicle on a county maintained road if there is another way. i agreed knowing whole heartedly that this was not the last time that i was going to be riding on the roads. It was for sure the last time that i was going to be caught. He then said that there was another catch. I have a couple ATVS that have been sitting in my garage for some time. I would like you to come over and get them running for me. I will even be more than happy to pay you for your labors. A little hesitant, i replied that i would. groaning in my mind knowing that i would have to see him again with this obligation. I asked for directions, receiving some redneck directions. He drove off leaving me there by the road to push my four wheeler to the church. I arrived into class right before i was truant. As i walked in the whole class went quiet. I then remembered what an awful sight i must have been after that long morning. The teacher had to almost take her hand and move her jaw back up three inches to ask for my tardy pass. Looking at me with her usual hateful grin she then said Billy you are the next one to give the oration in front of the class. I reactively reached for my back pack that i didn't have, and at that point not really caring knowing i hadn't prepared anyway. I stood up in the front of the class. My head hung low. I exerted all my strength to bring it up to the teachers eye level. She some years back had a run in with my older brother Kolby. From then on us pulsipher kids were on her hit list. No matter what i did i could not please her so at this point i decided that i would give up and not try. What would it matter anyway? I proceeded to give an account of how an internal combustion engine works going into detail of the swirl that fuel and air make as they enter the cylinder which had nothing to do with what i was supposed to be speaking on. No one in there had any idea what i was talking about. I sat down laying my head on the desk to get back the sleep i had missed to come to school. The rest of school was much the same. It hadn't always been like that i thought as i started my walk to the gas station to get some gas for my bike. My mind pondered the reasoning for the way things had been going in my life. Today wasn't really any different than the last 3 years. I reasoned within my self the words that came from my father how life isnt going to stay in spongebob land you will be expected to gain some responsibility. I felt like i had done a fairly good job of living up to that statement. i nearly reached the gas station when i concluded that something was missing something wasn't whole and that i needed to find out what exactly that was. I stepped into the gas station pulled out a couple dollars to pay for a couple powerades and 50 cents on pump two. I went outside hurriedly downing the first powerade. I stuffed the other one in my pocket. I then took the empty bottle that i had downed and filled it with the fifty cents worth of gas for my little four wheeler. The walk back to the church wasn't near as long as the walk to the gas station. The song superman by five for fighting occupied my thoughts. I cant stand to fly I'm not that naive men weren't meant to ride with clouds between there knees I'm more than a bird I'm more than a plane I'm more than some pretty face beside a train and its not easy to be me. Repeating the same process as i did that morning i was again ready to ride. I did not forget this time to fill up at the gas station knowing full well what the consequences of such actions are. I headed off into the hills. The ride was rough since my little 125 did not have any suspension. I found a good spot of soft sand. Slinging sand every which way i went i finally came to the top of the hill where i stopped to look at the beauties of the mountains and the small towns of Logandale and Overton. From up here the world seemed so big. The cars looked like toys as they toured the squared off streets. Below i could see dust as an extremely loud quad came from one of the down town streets. It seemed to sail on the ground as it glided across the roughest section of the trail. The rider was majestic as he would become the four wheeler with every corner. He eventually passed right below where i was at. I watched eagerly hoping he would come and talk to me. His chariot was a Yamaha yfz 450 that like a deer jumped from one hill to the next. The horses thundered as it ripped the trails to shreds. As fast as it had appeared it had faded away leaving only the dust lingering in the air behind it. I stared into the direction it had come from then looked down at the trustful mule that i was riding. The words of my father again echoed in my head “what you have is good enough”. That promise seemed empty as i looked at the faded plastics that had over the years turned pink from exposure from the sun. the switches no longer worked, they long since had frozen up due to being left in the rain. The motor leaked oil where someone had used silicone as a gasket which in most cases never works fully like it should. The tires were bald so traction was little. The motor was weak from years of hard use. The inscriptions Honda on the handlebars still read strong. I was proud to be the owner of the little bike but lingering in my mind was the wonder of what it is like to ride a race bike. A bike that was built to go fast. I put the thought aside making a course for home. I had not thought too much about it in the morning but the narrows had an eerie feeling to it. It was called the narrows because there was a river that ran through two cliffs that made a narrow passage. Legend has it that there is an old indian burial ground around there so sometimes late at night you can hear war chants along with drums. The thought sent chills up my spine. From then on i looked directly in front of me paying no attention to anything but the road. I made a quick stop to my buddy Robert at the junkyard. As i slid into my usual parking spot(because i was a regular) i looked around for my buddy. I heard a cry from underneath his truck nearby. He made me look good as he crawled out from under that thing having grease all the way up to his elbows. Dude what ya doing under there i exclaimed. Oh ya know busted another motor mount jumping my truck he answered. I asked why ya underneath the truck then? Well ya know when the motor mount busted it broke the mounts to my transmission also so I'm having to weld some new ones in. >