Off the seat of a bicycle
Chapter 38)      Chicago and the long miles

Chicago was a fresh start and I remembered the Judge in Indiana saying, ‘what if somebody from the big city were to come through here [and run over your bike for fun],’ so I was expecting a harder time riding. But the Judge was wrong.

People in Chicago pull less social rank over bicycles than rural Indiana. I suppose it means city folks are more apt to walk around a cat than they are to kick it.

My father was a totally different man with his new life. His house was in an exclusive area north of the city and you could tell he and his wife enjoyed their corporate lives together, but both drank a little too much at night. The drinking made my father sleepy, however during my short stay at his house, he quit cold turkey. He always had a strong will, and I liked that about him … but there was something else new about him and I liked that person better.

He was relaxed and didn’t look haggard even though his job demanded more than any previous position. He had reached his station.

I supported my father when he left our family and told him so when I arrived in Chicago. Our family worked terrible on his peace of mind. Leaving was his only choice for survival and I marveled at his new manner and way of speaking. He was connected and engaging unlike any time before in our lives. He had blossomed with the wide solitude that encompassed his new life and I felt happy about that.

Maybe I had changed too; after all it had been nearly nine years since I spent much time with him.

My father threw himself into his project: getting me a job in a hardware store. Hardware was his idea, and it was a perfect fit. And boy howdy, I loved calling the store managers and going in for interviews. I was energized and had real direction for once in my life.

Within a week I had my first regular job since high school and became an esteemed clerk at a hardware store in Lake Forest.

To flesh out the bones of my new hip style, I bought a used 2-door blue Chevy. My ego was now thrust into the daily grind of car world and I found the roadway through a windshield was a new old companion.

At night I abandoned the car and began riding the longest miles of my life. Chicago is flat, and not at all like southern Indiana which was hilly, and I could ride 70 miles without a breath and still jump up the next day and go to work carrying paint cans and boxes in one arm and flipping stuff onto the sales counter with the other.

From time to time, my ill temper caused problems at work. I was rude to customers and got into a fight with the assistant manager. He spit water on me over a disagreement and I pushed him into a wall, after which he quit.

I didn’t understand people. I thought normal-world contained people who constantly worked hard, but the assistant manager butt-sat most of the day.

He was an ole farm-hand, used to milking the business hour, but it was wrong for me to make that my business, except down deep I’m a socialist … I believe volleyball teams should have equal sides … I believe all people should do their best at work and couldn’t understand why a manager did less work than me.

In retrospect, it was simpleton-rude for me to avoid the long drink of water whilst chilling with the other folks. I should’ve sat down and stopped pushing myself.

But I never learned to enjoy the breeze and sway with ordinary people. Tigers don’t live like that, they stay alone and stalk and prowl and pounce … and that was me, I pounced on the work and stalked around the store … and got bored as hell, whereas the assistant manager would never get bored. He had a little girlfriend and they were going to make babies and live regular gut wrenching lives in front of the TV eating commercial-sized portions of batter-fried chicken and rolls.

At that age I couldn’t even see it.

I probably exaggerate my shortcomings at the hardware store, because I lasted a full year as promised to the owner. But by that time, my patience was blasted … and I felt trapped.

It was a relief to give two-weeks notice, but the owner gulped and said something about having to move all those boxes himself. I had helped him pretty good, and worked hard the whole year and was honest throughout. Plus I was a good salesman, in part because my father was a sales manager and we talked about selling.

All jobs aside though, bicycling was still my avocation and I rode constantly, banging out the long miles and riding down to the loop and back most nights after work.
Chapter 39) My best day riding a bike
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