But that's the way things of that nature seemed to go in my youth. I'd get something new, it'd be the hot topic of interest and attention, then something else bright and shiny would catch my eye. And on occasion, something would leave me with a lifetime memory.
And such was the case with the yellow tandem bicycle. There are two memories, one historical, and one hysterical, that I'll always associate with it.
My father, brother and I would take various turns riding with one or the other around the neighborhood. Most of my parents adult friends, when visiting, would also take it for a quick spin around the block. I don't recall my mom jumping on for a ride but she might have as well, in the first day or two. Yet after awhile, the novelty wore off, and it became yet another obstacle lining the side walkway along our house.
The funny memory is something that happened towards the end of our 'interest period' in the bike. My brother and I had pretty much 'been there/done that' with regards to riding the bike on the streets and sidewalks of the surrounding area. But we'd not crossed over into the 'all terrain' aspects, and when you're a teenager and you're losing interest in something like this, you're not quite so inclined to put a good deal of emphasis into its condition or treatment. Conveniently, directly across the street from our house, was an elementary school with plenty of open spaces and rough patches, just the right sort of challenge for a pair of adventurous siblings.
My brother, being the elder, was hence the ring leader. I, subsequently, filled the supporting role position of the adaptable lackey, nodding obligingly while occasionally muttering the standard agreements of "yeah, boss.. yeah yeah... sure sure... uh huh...". It was this or a bloody nose. I adapted quickly.
We'd made fair game of the baseball fields, the dirt patches, and even the tanbark encompassed monkey-bar areas. They'd all yielded willingly to our forceful intrusions. So logically, the decorative bushes in the front of the school fell into our next path. With the right momentum, we'd careen into a wide patch of knee deep bushes, crushing branches along the way, as we'd forge a path by brute force. The bike would shimmy and bump, but, provided we maintained the consistent effort on the dual pedals, we'd get through in a matter of moments, looping back around the outer campus pathway to traverse it again. It worked several times in a row, then halfway through, we heard a snap from beneath the front tire, and I felt the rush to follow.
It seems our prior passes ran directly over a rather large-scale water pipe valve. Nothing so obvious that we'd have seen it from a distance, or even during the rough and tumble travel over it, but it was there, taking the brunt of the impact repeatedly, and with each pass, cracking just a little more. And finally, it snapped audibly, and the rush to follow was that of a busted water main, pressurized with enough force to send a blasting jet of water directly into the sky, probably about 20 feet or so into the air.
So remembering that we're on a tandem bike, and taking note of the fact that the snap occurred as the front tire dislodged the broken value and released the captive water, my brother was spared. I, however, was not. As my brother so eloquently tells the story, hearing the snap and feeling the impact, he glanced back at me over his shoulder, only to find a circular pillar of rushing water, through which, in slow motion, came my nose, then my cheeks, then my gasping face. The water had shot up directly behind his seat and completely nailed me on mine.
Being completely taken aback, we faltered a foot or two on the bike as it slowed and fell sideways, water raining down upon us from the fountain we lay beneath. We scrambled to pull the bike aside and, once my brother was able to regain his composure and control the unbridled laughter at my drenched state, we rode back to our home to get our father's help. By the time we'd returned, numerous neighbors had come from their homes to observe the new fountain we'd unintentionally discovered, and the fire dept. soon followed. It was quite an event for us all.
Soon after, perhaps for the better, the Tandem bike had been abandoned on the side of the house. Perhaps for a year or even longer. And during that time, my father had joined a few others leaving their positions at HP to a startup company known as Tandem Computer. My father was one of the first 100 employees. And as the company grew, he approached the family with the desire to donate the unused tandem bike to the company.
Even though it had been some time since the bike had been used, even though the tires were flat and the yellow paint had faded and given way to an increasing percentage of rust, and even though it had sat long enough for weeds to have entwined themselves in its tires, there was still some trepidation at the thought of relinquishing it. It was one of those moments where the thought of giving it up was cause to reconsider using it again instead.
But like many things that run their course, server their purpose, meet the immediate needs, and oh yes, contribute to the pool of childhood stories one later relates, it only took a few moments of sincere consideration before we agreed to letting it find a new home. And with that, the bike was gone from sight, and shortly thereafter, from memory.
I don't recall how many years later it was, perhaps only 3 or 5, perhaps more, but following my parents divorce, and my dad's subsequent relocation to Germany, I had arranged to visit him for lunch one afternoon while he was in town. It was to go to a local hole-in-the-wall bar & grill called 'the 19th hole', in a shopping center at the intersection of 280 and Stevens Creek Blvd, that he'd rightly claimed to have had one of the best burgers in the Bay Area. When I arrived in the lobby of Tandem computers and requested that the receptionist advise him of my presence, I stood, glancing at either side of the back wall of the lobby where hallways extended in either direction, awaiting his arrival. And suddenly, almost as you'd expect to occur in a movie, complete with slow motion and reflective musical accompaniment, my eyes recognized, beneath the staircase centered against the back wall of that lobby, the Tandem bike. Our Tandem bike.
It had been lustrously restored; the dingy rust-stained flaking yellow paint was gone, replaced with a rich dark gold.The seats, pedals, grips...everything was pristine. It had been there for some time, a casual tie in for the company to their name, and a symbol to visitors for many many years. When we returned from lunch my father and I even talked briefly about the bike and its memories. Even as recently as a few years back, when I'd made some contact with a number of his co-workers, I was told that the bike was still around and in the possession of one of the executives.
I hope it's in use, and if it's in use by that executives children, I hope they'll try making a run for the bushes some day. Perhaps it'll be something they speak of and reflect on fondly, many years from now, as I do today.