RAD … the dream incubator

In the mid 80’s, after watching the multi-award winning movie, RAD, I wanted to be rad.  I carefully reasoned within myself about my future … it was silly to want to be the white Michael Jackson or the new Rocky.  I wanted to devote my life to all things BMX and delivering newspapers.

I came home from the theater, pulled my old Schwinn bike out of the garage and began trying to do cherrypickers in the driveway that night. I quickly realized I had to get new equipment.  I couldn’t do what the RAD guy did with what I had (no footpegs, no number plate, no hand brakes, no name-brand stickers, no bmx t-shirts, no helmet, no pads, no ramps, no paper route). 

I couldn’t do what I wanted to do with what I had.  Looking back, I suppose I could race and be a freestyler with what I had, but it was easier on the front end to blame it on the lack of proper equipment.  Also looking back, I think this is the dilemma of all males. We just want more gear, for whatever venture we may be into.  Our closets and garages are not full of enough gear yet.  We always want to be prepared to go pro at something if we ever find that we are actually good at it.

So after laying out my reasoning before my dad, he told me he would buy me a new bike.  My newest dream could come true. He took me into the big city of Shreveport to pick out the bike I liked, But when he saw the price tags, and that they were not much better than the bike I had already, he decided to do something different.

Every detail in place, except for the yellow Skyway mags.

When we got home, we had work to do.  First, we cleaned the garage.  the work we were going to do required room.  We set up a “BMX magic area” that was designated to transforming junk into BMX magic. 

Dad told me this might take some time, and once we started taking it apart, I wouldn’t have anything to ride.  So I was going to have to be committed to this process.  I thought about it for 2 seconds, and told him I could walk for the next year if I could have that blue GT with the yellow skyway mags and blue tires.

We brought the Schwinn into the BMX magic area.  Dad showed me how to remove the handlebars, the tires, the seat, everything.  Together, we stripped the old Schwinn down to its bare, ugly frame and then we began abusing it.  We sanded and sanded until we had removed every bit of the old color.  Then we went to the paint store and picked out a beautiful GT blue, came home and painted it.

I scrubbed my dirty yellow mags until they looked new again.  I cleaned every part that we removed from the old bike.  Some old things we had to replace.  We bought a new blue tires, grips, a new seat, new crank, a number plate for the handlebars, a new helmet that matched the new blue bike.  We bought bearing grease and chain oil.  We tweaked the handlebars a bit so they were more freesyle-like, and then the day finally came.  We started the process of putting it all back together.

Part by part and piece by piece, the old Schwinn became that GT I had wanted.  The transformation was complete.  The last thing we put on it was the number plate.  Though I had never raced a day in my life, it looked like I was a pro … number 47 (I think).  I rode it around the neighborhood in complete victory, though I had won nothing.  Friends were jealous, and began asking their dads to make their bikes into GTs.  It was a glorious day.

But the next day was not so glorious.  I had supposed that having the right gear, and the right bike I could be like the guy in RAD.  But my skills had not improved when the bike changed.

After trying cherry-pickers, front foot endos, bar hops, bar spins, and other tricks that seemed so easy on the movie … I limped home with busted elbows and bleeding knees.  I hated that bike. After one afternoon of tying the tricks myself …. I was done.

Soon, the GT became just a mode of transportation again.  It was not a BMX racer, it was not a freestyle magic machine.  I couldn’t do anything on it.  The dream had died.

Until I went to the local bike store’s free BMX show.  Pro and corporate riders showed up to teach us tricks and show us what bikes are really meant for.  Their excellence and grace and pure guts re-ignited a spark in me.  I could do this after all!  I could be the champion of all things BMX.

I went home and tried the tricks again … and then got into skateboarding.