When I was 10, I had this amazing bike, an aero with the saucers. Dope.
Seven guys invited me to race. I was still young and innocent so I agreed.
They lured me away from my family. They surrounded me and told me to get off. I said no. They tried to take me off, I fought them. They put a crappy, rusty knife to my neck. I stopped fighting.
They picked up the bike and rode off. We called the cops and searched for them. Never found them.
I still occasionally have a dream where I’m riding a really cool bike, and as soon as I step outside with it, criminals start ganging up on me to try and steal it.
I have always hoped those criminals got what they deserved down the road.
Leave a Reply