The Accidental Extremist
There’s No Such Thing As A Bad Trip….

Two Wheels To Paradise
Tuesday May 26th 2009, 8:22 am
Filed under: Uncategorized
Just like riding a bike! Just like riding a bike!

   A few years ago my girlfriend and I decided to take a trip. We’ve been together off and on since high school, being from the same town in Texas, but we hadn’t taken the big plunge by getting on a plane together. It was our first big vacation, so naturally we went for a romantic destination: Paradise Island, in the Bahamas. It’s one of those places where the hotel rooms seem to float above the water on little stilts. And the water is the color of Windex. It looked absolutely ideal. 

    On the first day we were feeling adventurous, like we wanted to get absolutely everything out of this trip. We saw some tourists blasting by on scooters, and before long we were standing in a dingey little shack with a local staring at a release form. Not even stopping to read it, I scrawled my signature and told the guy we wanted a two-seater—she’d ride on the seat behind me. I was picturing it: the wind in our hair, we’d blast down to some open-air cabaña on the beach and sip rum and eat conch all afternoon. Perfection. 

    ”You ever ridden one?” the kid asked. I lied, saying I had. My girlfriend didn’t know better, so he grabbed one of the bigger bikes. “We better take a test ride here in the lot,” she said. We saddled up, and weaved wobbily across the asphalt. She grabbed my sides. “I’m getting off. Why don’t you just try it by yourself,” she said. She stepped off, gave me a reassuring look, and I gave the thing some juice.

    The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground in a pool of my own blood, the bike on top of me, burning hot. I’d rocketed across the lot and hit the curb, then endo’d ass-over-teakettle. Somehow I’d severed my Achilles tendon halfway through. I spent the rest of the trip hobbling around in bandages, doped out of my gourd on pain killers. 

    We’re still together and we’re really happy. There’s just one small problem. She’s obsessed with buying a new toy for some reason. First thing in the morning the other day she goes, “Do you want to come with me out to Westchester? I’m going to buy a scooter, and there’s one I want to look at.” The jury’s still out on that one. —Anonymous in Brooklyn

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