Summer 1986

It is Summer of 1986 in Normal, Illinois. Towards the end of the Summer semester. We are living in the white house on College Ave. My roommate is trying to study for a final exam, and I am studying a case of beer and cranking the stereo. He finally has enough and invites me to leave. “I can’t go anywhere.” I tell him “No money.” He hands me a $20 bill and tells me to get lost.

Now $20 will let me sit in a bar for a few hours, or I can fill the bike fuel tank about 3 times for a range of about 450 miles. I put on my leather and noting that it’s about midnight, get on the bike. I headed South on Main Street towards I74 Eastbound. I figure it’s about 250 miles or 4 hours to where I’m going. I put the bike up to cruising speed and lean back for the ride.

Its an uneventful ride. I stop twice for a cup of coffee at the Blue and Whites, keeping my funds tight, and enjoy the Summer weather. The stars are shining out in the country and I am at peace with the world. I74 turns into I70 and the signs to Richmond begin to appear. I know where I am going, having been here many, many times before for family gatherings. I am going to Aunt Vivian’s house. All I have to do is find 22^nd Street and I’ll find the house. I find Earlham College and know where I’m going. Its about 4:30 am here and the bike sounds like thunder on the quiet streets. I find the house, and pull up in the driveway. I take off  my helmet and hang it on the grip and make my way to the back door. I hesitantly knock on the back door, not sure if anyone is awake or heard me pull in. Aunt Vivian answers the door in her night gown and says “Good morning Scott, would you like some breakfast?” like she was expecting me.

She makes the coffee and I sit in the kitchen that I know so well from having spent holidays and other occasions here since I was little. Other than my own home in Northbrook, I can’t think of a place that feels so safe.

It turned out that they were having a cookout that day. When I went to move the bike, I discovered that there was a nail in the rear tire. I took the wheel off and somehow my uncle Ron knew someone that would fix it on a Sunday. So aunt Vivian and I took the wheel to the shop and got it fixed. We got it back to the house and I put the bike back together.

The rest of the day was spent getting ready for the BBQ, and I was tapped to cook the burgers on the grill. I was more than happy to do so, though I looked a bit out of place in my torn blue jeans and t-shirt.

At about 5:00 I pulled my leather on and gave aunt Vivian a big hug. She handed me a $50 and told me to come back any time.

The ride back to Normal was uneventful like all Sunday night rides should be.