To the Dad of the Boy who abandoned his bike.

To the Dad of the Boy who abandoned his bike, This morning kind of sucked. I stayed up too late playing online and when my alarm went off at six I hit that snooze button twice. My allergies are in full force, what with cedar in Central Texas pumping out billows of yellow pollen whenever the weather changes like it has recently. My eyes itch, I'm sneezing. I also had a really weird dream that kind of had me uneasy, tossing and turning, all night long.

Fortunately, my eleven year old has been getting himself up at 5:30 for the past two weeks and is showered, dressed and making his own breakfast by the time I get up. Also fortunate (or at least fortuitous), my six year old peed the bed and his grandmother had him up and dressed before I even woke up. Every parent and every child should be so lucky as to have their grandmother in the home. Thanks Mom, and happy 70th birthday as well. You don't look a day over 60 (and you know that's true)!

So, when I rolled up on your son about five blocks from school I was kind of half awake, a little slow on the uptake. I was also distracted as my six year old was singing a television commercial he made up about the blanket of fog that has enveloped Austin this morning. ("It's FOG! Perfect for hiding from your friends! Use some to confuse your neighbors! $9.99 shipping and handling! Must be 18 years or older to order!") At first I thought your boy was turning back to pick up a bike someone had discarded and I drove past. Then it occurred to me he had wiped out, something about the look on his face. He seemed upset and frozen in space. That is when I pulled over.

Now, I've been a really lucky parent. Our circumstances are such that I had the luxury of being the primary caregiver for both of our boys for the first three years of their lives respectively. And since I'm a teacher, I also share their schedules and have had more dedicated time with them in general than most dads get to have. It's been great for them, great for me and it's really had an impact on my work as an educator. I sort of naturally "get" kids anyway, I even prefer them to adults for the most part. Boys in particular I "get". I know how to read them. I understand their context. I "listen" to them even when they aren't speaking. So when I walked up on your boy and asked him "Hey man, are you ok?" the look in his eyes as he turned to face me broke my heart.

"No, this bike doesn't work. No matter how hard I pedal it barely moves." he said through impending tears. He spoke clearly and looked me in the eye. He had toast crumbs on his collar.

"Oh, man that sucks but I thought you wiped out. Let me take a look."

I flipped his bike then cranked the pedals and sure enough the calipers on his rear brakes were super tight and gripping the rim. It was a wonder he rode it that far at all.

"Dude, these brakes are too tight. No wonder you're having a hard time."

"I know," he said with resentment that grabbed my attention "they've been that way ever since my dad "fixed" them."

Here was a nine year old kid so frustrated his bike wouldn't work that he had literally abandoned it on the side of the road, started to walk away and leave it there, then thought better of it and was frozen in place. He was paralyzed with anger, enmity, fear and ambivalence and was so stuck that when I came up behind him he did not move his feet as he turned around to face me.

As I listened I saw a child with two parents who feed and clothe him well. He was showered and well rested and his semi-long hair was newly trimmed. The bike he couldn't ride, a not inexpensive but cheaply made model from a big-box store, gets kept in the garage. That's a hell of a lot more than many kids have, everywhere in the world.

I also saw a boy with some pretty big issues tumbling around in his head and his heart. His tone said he was mad at you, Dad, and not just any old kind of mad but a deep, aching kind of angry. That bike was a catalyst for and a symbol of how he's feeling right now and when he got fed up and dumped it then walked away, he was doing that to you.

Yet, he turned back when he thought better of leaving it there even though he didn't go all the way through with it. When I walked up he was struggling with its fate. Who can say what would have happened had I not pulled over? My gut tells me he would have simply sat down and cried then been late for school, a bike with fresh scratches and a slightly bent front rim tossed into the bike rack without a lock.

Hearing this anger toward you put me in automatic teacher mode, and having sized your son up I took a gamble on which teacher-tool to reach for then did you a true solid. With the bike between us, eyes locked and the front wheel slowly turning I said:

"Yeah, well he didn't mean to fuck it up. Trust me, I did this same thing to my son's bike and had to bring it to the shop. You're gonna have to walk it but please don't leave him in the road, dude."

You know those moments when people actually hear each other and time becomes exaggerated? Not just spoken words but the meaning of words as well as the emotion conveyed? In that moment when I said the word "fuck" your son released his grip on the anger he was carrying and allowed himself to take a breath. I actually heard that breath and it wasn't a "shock at an adult swearing" breath it was a "someone is actually listening to me" breath of deep relief.

I was telling him you didn't do it on purpose, that you love him, that you are imperfect and that all adults are flying through life by the seat of their pants. Your boy realized in that moment he did not want to leave you on the side of the road. Your boy, if only for a little while, forgave you. When you come home from work today he will be waiting for you. Please do not ignore this opportunity to change the record.

When I got back into the car my six year old was quietly waiting to find out what the deal was. I hadn't offered much of an explanation when I pulled over because I was in emergency mode but he had noticed your son and his bike when we passed.

"Is that kid ok, Dad?"

"Sorry, bud. I though he had a wipeout and I wanted to make sure. His bike isn't working and I tried to help him fix it." I told him, pulling away from the curb. Your boy was already pushing his way toward campus looking so much lighter than before.

"Oh, man Dad! I hope you didn't do to it what you did to my bike!"

I couldn't make this up if I tried, I thought to myself.

"No dude," I laughed, finally awakened to the day. "His dad had already taken care of that part for both of us."