Off the seat of a bicycle
Chapter 10)  The egg trap
Previous chapter

The act of throwing eggs is probably a quintessential example of my work as a bicycle activist. This behavior was a direct descendant of being trod over by motor vehicles, and the refusal of society to redress an unstated grievance.

However one could also explain this as retaliation for the vandalized state of my life at home, but that was just the cauldron of heat that forged the personality, it was not the cause.

I was mad at cars for endangering me and I was going to strike back, and I defend my work, saying I only threw eggs at the cars that were driving ‘badly,’ lashing out specifically at cars that sped past in what I deemed dangerous driving.

I used to go up on the railroad trestle at night and throw eggs at the passing cars … but only the speeding cars got hit. The slow grandma drivers were given a complete bye (hell I shoulda hit them too, they were probably drunk). My work was intermittent and probably dependent on a build-up of rage that eventually required a blow-off of some sort.

Pathologically the behavior parallels serial killers and binge drinkers, but we all got issues don’t we?

I don’t remember when it started or how many times I pelted cars from the bridge, but I do remember clearly the culmination of events that caused the practice to stop.

My brother started telling his friends at school to blink their lights before passing under the bridge. People at school were telling me what kind of car they drove, as if I was spotting cars in broad daylight.

People were just parading past to see if the story was true but I never said one way or the other … I just laughed. I never thought my actions were of much consequence, but as importantly, I never mentioned it was a retaliatory strike against assaultive driving either. I was unable to formulate interactions with people in a manner that followed the ordinary, usual, or acceptable means. I was tight-lipped and unresponsive and have remained so my entire life.

However this is my life’s story, and I am exposing myself to rid the fascism that silence denotes. But in reality, I narced myself out telling my brother the truth about throwing eggs, then the dumase told the world, which resulted in this chapter.

Throughout my life, I thought outrageous behaviors were the norm; and why not? After all we read daily of war, rape and pillage, and drunk driving, but certainly I am not among those horse’s asses, thinking instead I was a decent hard-working person who chose on occasion to violate minor laws because I wanted freedom to go anywhere on a bike.

The fateful egg night arrived and I must’ve smelled the rat from the start because everything I did allowed me to continue further into the trap while providing as many outs as possible. The real weakness was the opposing team’s flawed plan. The police didn’t cover the ‘back door,’ which is how I got away. It didn't matter, I would have sensed them behind me and gone the other way before anything happened ... but how big a deal was it anyway? My egg throwing was not rifle shots on the freeway, was it?

Was it?

A policeman’s son, acting as informant, approached me that night saying he had eggs and wanted to throw from the railroad bridge. That was transparent, even to a 15 year-old don’t you think? So I excitedly agreed and said we would get several other guys. I wasn’t stupid enough to go alone with that fool. I got another policeman’s son plus two more guys, Ronnie and Daryl who lived next door to the bridge, and all five of us started throwing eggs at passing cars.

I never took anybody with me before.

Pretty soon, things were different. There was a van coming down the road real slow, and a car coming slow from the other way too. People don’t drive like that, and then I spotted a state police cruiser parked uphill under a tree with its lights off. That was it for me. I told the guys not to throw at the van, but they did anyway. Suddenly the van stopped and the doors flew open and a bunch of guys jumped out and rushed uphill. I swear Daryl threw an egg at the advancing police.

I was gone in a flash, down the rails and out the back door with the police informant fast in tow. He said, I’m sticking with you, while the rest of the guys jumped off the steep embankment into the high weeds.

Daryl recounted the story later and said it looked like a prison break with searchlights swishing overhead while they lay prone in the briars.

The informant and I were atop a hill 250 yards away watching the flashlights swarm around searching the weeds, when the informant yelled back. Real loud he yells, ‘we’re up here, we’re up here.’ I laughed and told him to shut up, but it probably saved the day because the guys in the weeds were never caught. A minute later the police were headed our way, with the state cruiser’s head-lights heaving up and down in the rough field as it raced toward us. We both ran off in the night, going into a neighborhood, then across a field and over a fence and then on to my house, and later back to his, where he loaded a paper match into my pump-action pellet pistol and calmly shot the lower leg of another friend. That outraged me and caused the other boy to yelp in pain.

Nobody got caught that night … but I had taken everyone to the exact spot the egg suspect threw from. Still Daryl and Ronnie lived next to the tracks so maybe one of them was the eggman.

Everybody knew the truth, but I was not found at the scene, and the informant supplied the eggs, didn’t he? So where was the case? In the end it stopped me from throwing eggs at cars, but it had another unintended affect: I never handed my pellet pistol to anyone again. In fact I never carried a gun again.

One more thing. The informant told my brother that I was 'real fast.' My brother said, that guy's on the football team, so if he says you're fast then ...
Yes it was true. I was very fast ... very quick and coordinated. I looked gawky, tall and uncoordinated, but get me on a bike or put a policeman behind me, and I get motivated like a cat where you don't want him.

Chapter 11) The bike set-up
Index of chapters