Pink Light

Construction workers dug a few feet wide, deep nasty trench, further downslope on our street. Then marked the site with red and white cones and poles. Consequently we, the kids, had a new playground, all for us.



And so we did. Inventing games and challenges. Like ride on our bicycles as fast as we could and then, on the last moment, brake hard. The one who came first to rest closer to the trench won.

I can still remember the wind in my hair as I picked up speed. No one was about to beat that import bike of mine. Not this time. My machine was the lightest and sleekest. It could shift into many gears, had the shiniest chrome rims.

This should have been a piece of cake, just one last stunt before the afternoon homeworks.

There I was, gaining momentum downhill, ahead of the bunch, delaying the braking until the last moment. That trench was closing fast, maybe even too fast ?

Then all of a sudden, it all vanished. Nothing else to do after my front brake cable snapped when I firmly depressed the handles.

At the last moment, just passed the first row of red and white cones. The trench was coming fast...

Scared from the unavoidable I closed my eyes. All vanished.

Shaking... I opened my eyes. Rolling on the other side of the trench slowing down on the uphill portion.

My bike came to rest, I put down one foot and assessed the situation. Yes. I was well on the other side, all in one piece. No injuries, no pain. No blood.

No blood ?

Then why was the pristine white Mercedes of Mr. Grutter all pink ?

Why all the surroundings were all pink ? Closed my eyes then slowly opened them again. All was back to normal. Mr. Grutter's car, parked in front of his offices was pristine white.

That bike of yours is really something claimed the other kids. It went that fast, flew over the ditch.

Then laughed at my snapped brake cable although their joy was not long. A stern looking construction worker came to sermon our reckless behavior.

Game over.