The Bike

My dad and I walked towards the Hudson River, west on 43rd Street. When I was a kid, we used to take this walk over to the Intrepid Museum all the time. I felt there must be something special about the big grey aircraft carrier, but mostly we’d just sit in silence on Pier 84. As the pier deteriorated, so did our relationship. I was growing up, going through those awkward teen years everyone warns about, but there was other stuff going on, too.

We turned up 11th Avenue and walked by the Market Diner. There were not so many transvestite prostitutes hanging out in the neighborhood anymore, but the diner hadn’t changed in my lifetime. We stopped at the parking lot.

“We’re not going to the Intrepid,” my dad said.

“Why not?” I asked

“We can do that later, if you’d like. But I have something to give you first.”

He flashed his badge to the parking attendant, identifying himself as Detective John Diamond. The guy set down his magazine, led us to the back of the lot, and nodded to a filthy tarp.

“It’s not in great shape, but I wanted you to have this now that you’re eighteen.” He pulled back the tarp to reveal a red Kawasaki motorcycle. “I think your father would have wanted you to have it. Happy Birthday.”

I haven’t been stunned too many times in my life. When I was eight, I got hit in the face when a baseball took a wicked hop at first base. I was younger than that when I found out I was adopted. Not much of a surprise for a white kid raised by black parents. But finding my mom murdered when I was ten was. Nothing much phased me from then on.

But this. This. My dad was talking to me about my father, after all of these years.

“I know you’ll have a lot of questions. But it’s a long story and I’m late for work. We can talk about it next week. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

That’s the sort of thing someone says on a TV show just before they get whacked. But don’t worry. This dad is still alive and giving criminals hell.

I tried to say something like, “You’re the only dad I ever needed,” because it was true. But instead I just said, “Okay.”