Off the seat of a bicycle
Chapter 42  Chicago 1977. James calls
 
About this time James S.B., the police rent-a-roper from Indiana, called my father’s house three times … and he must have gotten the number from the police … and interestingly, he only called when I was there alone.
 
It must have been more than the poor man could take; getting smoked years earlier by my brazen escape while he scampered hindmost for his hat.
 
Each time, James tauntingly asked if I knew who was calling, and each time I said ‘no,’ but wouldn’t inquire further. And then he would follow with; ‘are you sure you don’t know who this is?’
 
Each time he asked the question twice, and then hung up. Well bull shit, who else would call like that? So mid-way through the second call I knew exactly who it was, but didn’t let on … the tiger was creeping up low in the grass to see where the game warden was going.
 
I listening for background noise that would tell me where he was; sounds of an office or inflections in his voice that would indicate somebody was with him. But I heard nothing. He was in a quiet place, maybe his house.
 
On the third call he repeated the pattern … and when he asked if I knew who it was, I responded ‘no,’ using my polite suburban voice (the voice that accepts all and judges no one) … and then he asked for the second time … and that’s when the tiger pounced … suddenly I switched voices and turned my teeth into blood-needles at his throat and projected that blind-rage through the phone, curdling out, ‘what do you need?’ … telling him I knew exactly who he was. My voice compelled him to tell me where he lived and it gave the image I was standing outside his house looking through the window right then.
 
I went straight through the phone at him and the taunt left his voice, and he hung up and never called back. Bang done.
 
Something told me that he was a policeman in a local district or was connected somehow to the police, so I figured he called because a policeman got beat up. I knew he wasn’t calling for the mob, because those people would accelerate their intimidation after my charge through the phone. Besides those guys could get me on a bike anytime they wanted. Anybody could get me whenever they wanted.
 
I started watching the local paper and sure enough, a week later, there was an article reporting that a policeman got beat up a few miles away. Was it related to the James call? Was I a suspect? Or was James just calling for sport? I dunno, but he only called when I was home alone. So, was that a coincidence or was somebody watching my schedule?
 
Naw, nobody was watching my schedule, were they? Five police stops in less than a year, never once asking for identification. Never asking for ID is clear message they are watching.
 
But if the police were trying to intimidate me, it was a silly attempt, because I responded differently to fear … how else can a person stand up to a charging car and make that fucker choose between backing off or running down a bicyclist? I refused to be intimidated by cars and I was very intimidating both in appearance and voice.
 
And that skill was put to the test by ‘bat-man’ and his wifey.

Chapter 42-43 Bat Man and wife
Index of chapters