O’Doyle Rules
Tysen’s volleyball jones was satisfied at least a little this afternoon and filled my day with cardiovascular fun and lots o’ red arm welts. I was reminded of old Carbondale days of fun outside with a random assortment of kooky friends. It was very nice (lookit me gettin sentimental).
O’Doyle is the park next to my house which on this particular occaison was visited by some mini-festival chock full of kids, 2 inflatable bouncy houses, a golf cart style train trying hard to be thomas the tank engine and an unbelievably exuberant female vocalist (musician) belting out all the golden oldies for the kinder and pre-school crew. Sadly I didn’t hear “the wheels on the bus go round and round…” but it was Saturday after all. Our game on the other side of the park was treated to a scary echo effect every so often thanks to the apartment buildings at the edge of the park which only made for more fun. Before and after the game I got in a bit of skating to prep for my journey to the land of Motif aka Japan also known as my bro Toru Kambara’s homeland.
Around 4:30 I went with Chak to do some errands in the Pacific Beach area of San Diego. To save time I got dumped off to pursue my skate stores with my skateboard. Not finding the exact skate gear that my finicky set-up requires, I had to head to the next shop many many blocks away. (A big thanks to the Play It Again Sports guy who gave me the great deal on the weird santa/turtle boy toy machine deck and grip—but who else was gonna buy that weird ass seasonal graphic that puts the truck on top of turtle boys head?) On the way to tell Chako that I was on to the next store, my lack of recent urban skating was shamefully revealed at an intersection with a queue of cars.
While slowing to maneuver through the line up, all the cars began to advance and my gaze shifted to the opposite lane for oncoming traffic – sadly the previous line-up immediately halted their progress before I realized that my pelvis was being introduced to a shiny green and very immobile BMW. Nobody likes to hear the loud thump of a body on the back of their BMW. To clarify… a mini van driver is likely to worry that someone has been injured, whether it is their fault or not. The driver of a bmw can be expected to worry that their uber-car has been sullied and may require some sort of deductible. In any case, I was the clumsy dope, slightly injured but mostly embarassed.
As promptly as possible I took myself out of my right angle pose over the trunk, checked for scratches on said BMW’s fender and strode to the passenger side window. Tinted power window slides down to reveal stern and disgruntled, stocky jock… surfer. A flash of hope fills me when I see the surfboard covering the length of the passenger side interior. With earnest school boy directness I offer, “I’m very sorry sir. I checked for scratches but I don’t believe I left any marks. If you’d like to you can take a look for yourself.”
Suddently the redness of the face and the steam about to come out of the ears below his reversed baseball cap seemed to dissipate as he shook his head in stern disappointment. “Forget it.” Perhaps there was some common comraderie? Was it the injured puppy dog look and total disregard for my own well being over the condition of his shiny conveyance? Did I seem too pitiful to give a lashing – by tongue and/or by hand? Was the fellow in too much of a hurry to double park his car and whoop my ass? Did I impress him with my resilience and composure in the face of injury and imminent danger? Did my scruffy appearance hint at my inability to afford even the Budget Detail at his regular full service hand wash, let alone his deductible? Or had his life simply been so filled with the material joys of this world that he really didn’t give a shit?
I don’t care. I’m just pleased that all I had to deal with was a banged up shin. (I’m also glad I wasn’t wearing a metal belt buckle.) I figure all the folks on the street got a big kick out of the spectacle. I hung onto my new discount deck and grip tape and lit out before he changed his mind.
13 April 2002, 23:55 ::
commenting closed for this article
acartospendmyulcerformingdailycommuteinstyleanddamnthepedestrians
walkingfasterthanmybmwattitude in our united states?
at least you said you were sorry, that’s more than most might have done—you could have sued him.
— rmckaggis 2002-04-14 16:04 #
— sen 2002-04-15 13:39 #
— bitter gum drop 2002-04-16 15:37 #
— Roman the fix-it Pole 2002-04-22 07:35 #