“BUT I WANT TO KNOW WHAT FOOD ONE WAS!!!!” Nelson the Viking yelled as he ripped the door off of the hinges to my office. His demand to know more about Food One refers to a couple of columns I wrote a few weeks back where I mentioned a junior-high class where we built a jet-powered car and a model rocket, which I had named Food II and Food III respectively due to the unwritten rule that all great things must have a name. The fact that “great” is a subjective term gave me license to name that which I thought deserved it.
“There was also a Food IV” was my reply.
“Well, what was Food IV?”
“I seem to recall a FOOD V too, but maybe that was just something I had planned to build.”
“What was Food I?” he returned to his original query.
I told the Viking that I really couldn’t say. It was kind of like one of those secret society things where you can’t talk about it no matter how much time has lapsed. Maybe, just maybe, it can be mentioned on a deathbed as final words or something like that. The truth is that Food I was something I had created for engaging in illegal activity. Yes, it’s true, I was not always the fine, upstanding citizen the world has come to know. I realize that I have already said too much about Food I and I can give up my dream of being president of the United States due to the fact that the wheels of scandal have now been set in motion.
In my defense I must say that I was a juvenile at the time. I’ve changed. Really.
I made Food I. It existed. I can’t change that. I can say no more about it.
But I can tell you about Food IV.
Food IV was a modified ten-speed bicycle. I bought it from my neighborhood friend Kevin for three cigarettes and a quarter. The term “modified” always seems to conjure up images of something high-performance, if you are mechanically minded. Nothing could be further from high-performance and still be modified than Food IV.
Food IV’s modifications came in the form of stripping everything from the bike that didn’t need to be there: shifters, shifter cables, derailers, reflectors, brakes and everything needed to make them function, etc. Pretty much everything that involved proper function and safety had been removed. We were good bike riders at that age and stopping a bike always involved doing a power slide (turning the bike sharply while leaning away from the direction of travel and dropping the corresponding foot to the ground for stability causing the back tire to skid sideways thus bringing the bike to a halt). Brakes weren’t needed.
The chain was shortened so that the bike would stay in a single gear, approximately third. This gear was low enough to get the bike moving, but high enough to generate a reasonable amount of speed.
The handlebars were turned upward and looked more like a set of horns on the bike instead of the drop handlebars normally associated with ten-speeds.
The finishing touch was painting the bike the same royal blue that the rest of the Food series had been painted along with its name in yellow letters on the top tube. This color scheme was homage to the U.S. Navy’s flight demonstration squadron, the Blue Angels.
Food IV may have been one of the greatest bikes I had ever owned. It was a total piece of crap but it worked for me. I was tall and the large frame of a ten-speed allowed me to ride in comfort. I could put the seat up higher than I could on a 20-inch bike.
The funny thing is that someone stole it. I can’t imagine why.
A few years later I was driving home (I had a drivers license at this point) along a stretch of highway not far from my neighborhood but nowhere near any houses. Up ahead and off near the tree line I noticed leaning against a telephone pole a bike with the unmistakable turned up handlebars of Food IV.
It was a little rustier than it was when it was stolen but it was otherwise no worse for wear.
I loaded it up and took it home.
Now let me think … was there really a Food V?
Waye Braver can be contacted on Facebook or by e-mail at waye@braverinstitute.com
Visit the Braver Institute at www.braverinsitute.com
“There was also a Food IV” was my reply.
“Well, what was Food IV?”
“I seem to recall a FOOD V too, but maybe that was just something I had planned to build.”
“What was Food I?” he returned to his original query.
I told the Viking that I really couldn’t say. It was kind of like one of those secret society things where you can’t talk about it no matter how much time has lapsed. Maybe, just maybe, it can be mentioned on a deathbed as final words or something like that. The truth is that Food I was something I had created for engaging in illegal activity. Yes, it’s true, I was not always the fine, upstanding citizen the world has come to know. I realize that I have already said too much about Food I and I can give up my dream of being president of the United States due to the fact that the wheels of scandal have now been set in motion.
In my defense I must say that I was a juvenile at the time. I’ve changed. Really.
I made Food I. It existed. I can’t change that. I can say no more about it.
But I can tell you about Food IV.
Food IV was a modified ten-speed bicycle. I bought it from my neighborhood friend Kevin for three cigarettes and a quarter. The term “modified” always seems to conjure up images of something high-performance, if you are mechanically minded. Nothing could be further from high-performance and still be modified than Food IV.
Food IV’s modifications came in the form of stripping everything from the bike that didn’t need to be there: shifters, shifter cables, derailers, reflectors, brakes and everything needed to make them function, etc. Pretty much everything that involved proper function and safety had been removed. We were good bike riders at that age and stopping a bike always involved doing a power slide (turning the bike sharply while leaning away from the direction of travel and dropping the corresponding foot to the ground for stability causing the back tire to skid sideways thus bringing the bike to a halt). Brakes weren’t needed.
The chain was shortened so that the bike would stay in a single gear, approximately third. This gear was low enough to get the bike moving, but high enough to generate a reasonable amount of speed.
The handlebars were turned upward and looked more like a set of horns on the bike instead of the drop handlebars normally associated with ten-speeds.
The finishing touch was painting the bike the same royal blue that the rest of the Food series had been painted along with its name in yellow letters on the top tube. This color scheme was homage to the U.S. Navy’s flight demonstration squadron, the Blue Angels.
Food IV may have been one of the greatest bikes I had ever owned. It was a total piece of crap but it worked for me. I was tall and the large frame of a ten-speed allowed me to ride in comfort. I could put the seat up higher than I could on a 20-inch bike.
The funny thing is that someone stole it. I can’t imagine why.
A few years later I was driving home (I had a drivers license at this point) along a stretch of highway not far from my neighborhood but nowhere near any houses. Up ahead and off near the tree line I noticed leaning against a telephone pole a bike with the unmistakable turned up handlebars of Food IV.
It was a little rustier than it was when it was stolen but it was otherwise no worse for wear.
I loaded it up and took it home.
Now let me think … was there really a Food V?
Waye Braver can be contacted on Facebook or by e-mail at waye@braverinstitute.com
Visit the Braver Institute at www.braverinsitute.com
This piece first appeared in the April 17th, 2014 edition of the Pioneer Tribune, a weekly newspaper from Manistique, Michigan. Please visit their website: www.pioneertribune.com
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