Skid Marks

You'll have to indulge me as I continue the saga of my son learning to ride his two-wheeler. He's made substantial progress as we continue our daily training program here in Michigan. We are about to launch into road trips but have established that he first needs to be able to stop as well as he makes the thing go.

Needless to say, my concrete driveway is beginning to look like blacktop as he races about and comes to a sliding stop. Watching him throw himself into the process of skidding reminded me of a chapter from a few years back. (This is the part where the music starts and the image dissolves into a spin.)

My friend Danny and I used to love racing about UCLA on our stingrays. (His, big S, mine little; but we've had this discussion.) It was probably this time of year in 1968.  The start of school was a few weeks away and the UCLA Bruins football team were well into their practice schedule. So Danny and I decided we needed to ride by the guys, all lined up after practice and sitting along a wall in their pads and cleats.  It was cool just to be riding by in the presence greatness.  Then one of them calls out, "Show us a skid!" That we, a couple of ten year olds on bikes, should be asked to entertain the team was way too cool, beyond belief, and utterly irresistible.

Anything for the Bruins! For the next several minutes, until the coach called them in, we flew past and laid out our best skids. Straight lines, sideways, and the occasional crash. With each one they egged us on for more.  This may be pure fantasy but I think the coaches even paused a moment to watch a skid or two. Pretty sure.

We never got big applause or anything more than a couple of hollers and a few laughs. But it was a great moment that afternoon and it left me certain I had done my part to advance the football program that fall at UCLA.

Perhaps it's too early, or just too much to hope for, that my son should one day skid so well.  But I can dream.