I Found Jesus

Or he found me, this past weekend. He must have known of my evil doings starting with Friday night’s booza palooza. I was supposed to be acting like the Coach Yo that I am, but instead chose to get hammered at our end of the season 6 and 7 year old Machine Pitch Baseball Party. It must have been that, because I woke up in the morning, in my kid’s bed saying “ohhhh God….” Then the phone rang, Mr. Logic wanting to drive to east cuddy bumfuck and take the kids to some YMCA for a kids skate that they let the parents cruise around in too. Roll into the concrete jungle and meet “Ray.” Ray’s about 50, ponytail, sweatpants, some 1987 Nike Airforce 1’s and instantly claims “I’m DOWN with the YMCA, especially the C part!” I look at Logic and ask “what the fuck is the C part?” He informs me that YMCA stands for Young Men’s Christian Association or something like that. I next hear God Rock cranking in the park, then watch ole hippy Ray jump on his “Hard Core Jesus Freak” skateboard and destroy the bowls. God was definitely with him. Out of there and have to roll to a couple birthday parties because that’s what you do on weekends with kids. Go to birthday parties. At least one of them had roller-skating (with 8 wheels) and the other one had beer. Wake up for Fathers Day to some French toast and a brand new chain saw. Sweet, I’m trying to think the last time I needed one??? Whatever, I was hoping for the Body Bouncer but thanks kids. We’ll cut something up. Off to the BMX track and pull the bikes out to run some practice with Milo. Bubba the track announcer says it’s “Fathers Day Race” and all the fathers that watch their kid’s race are getting in a moto and racing. Damn, haven’t raced since Greeley Colorado in 1992. This should be interesting. Bubba see’s that I haven’t registered and calls me out. I register. Running gates one of the dudes that regularly races see’s me having fun with myself and decides to rain on my parade. Runs a practice gate with me and his back wheel is out of the gate before my front wheel starts moving. But the dudes leading the age group in national points right now, so not that bad. Race one, line up on the gate with my circa 1991 Bonzai race cruiser that has the original tires on it where they are so old that the gum sidewalls have fallen off and line up to 7 other dudes. 6 of them are running new Redlines, one others got a new FMF. All have new full face helmets, I have an open face. I guess no one runs open faces these days, they were cool in the 90’s!. “Riders ready, watch the lights!” Bam gate drops and out we all go. My peripheral vision shows that I got a pretty good start and one other dude next to me going neck and neck into the first jump and then all of a sudden he’s gone. I hit that fucker so out of control, dude had to hit the brakes. Clip the next jump, and muscle my way thru the non rhythm section to the finish, where to my surprise I wind up winning the moto. Damn…I still got it. Next two moto’s are pretty much the same way. Shocked, I roll over to collect my trophy for the day and what do I get? 2 new tires and a yellow “Jesus Would Ride A Bike” tee shirt. Thank God I needed it.