The Blue Max

Way back in the day, this was the bike to have. If you were a kid in Greenwood in the 80's, you either had one, knew someone who had one, or you wanted one. I don't recall the cost of these beauties, but I do recall the day I got mine. Christmas 1988, there was no believe in Santa, but the folks did the routine of putting out gifts after we went to bed. It was a present that I had been asking for as they sold these machines at the nearby and long time defunct, 'Otasco'. I can recall going into the store and just staring at this bike and sitting on it, wishing and hoping that one day, I would have one. And it happened, on Christmas morning, and it was a moment of sheer exhilaration and joy. I put on warmups and went for a ride immediately. It was cold outside, but I could have cared less. I rode a few blocks north and a few blocks back just to get the feel of the machine. How it handled, the brakes, what kind of air I could get off a piece of clustered and broken sidewalk. I was sure to be among the cool kids at Bankston Elementary now with a bike of this caliber. Back in those days, if you didn't have a bike and your parents brought you to school, you were a bit of a "square". We rode in nearly any weather and we had numbers too, a good group of 4-5 of us rode everyday. We would meet at the corner of Park and Grand and continue on the next several blocks to school, ramping off anything we could find, while trying not to wreck with a backpack full of books. Good times indeed.

For as much as this bike was a source of joy in my life, it was also a source of pain. It was stolen from me. And I speak of this now because of the fact that bike theft is still alive in this community. It is an unfortunate reality of life sometimes, to be a victim of a crime, even though it is classified as non-violent, it sure feels violent. The family took a trip down to the beautiful sandy beaches of Ft. Walton Beach, FL during the summer a good year after owning the Blue Max. We took some precautions, as we would be abandoning our home for a week long trip some six hours south. We had the Blue Max chained up to metal post in the fenced in backyard. A safe option at the time, but considering the longevity of the Blue Max being unsupervised, not so much. In hindsight, we should have put it in the house, but this was the 80's and that type of forward thinking was not prevalent and it was just a bike. Albeit, it was my bike, and I loved it dearly, as it was something that I truly wanted and it brought me great pleasure cruising around with my posse, trying to catch some air. I didn't think of my bike on vacation, as I was to busy having fun. I didn't think of my bike until we got in the car to come home and all I could do then was hope that it would be there for me when I got home. I had big plans for the rest of the summer, us two, as we had many miles of asphalt to chew up with friends. As we continually got closer to home my anticipation grew stronger. This was pre-cellphone, so we couldn't just call a relative to go check it out, although they had done well by us and kept tabs on the home and business while we were away. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, I bolted from the car to go to my bike and ensure its safety, to say hello, to unchain it and take a spin. The hell with unloading the car, I needed two wheels and a set of pedals turning a chain on some broken asphalt. What I found was a cut chain in a pile, an absent bike, and heartbreak. I don't recall crying, but then again, I'm not a big cryer. I do recall staring, mouth gaped open in utter disbelief. What happened? How could this happen? Why did this happen? It was chained!! So many questions and no answers. This is not the life of a 12 year old kid! This was not supposed to happen! I couldn't believe it. I couldn't make a sound. I just turned around, walked back to the van, started grabbing luggage. What else was I to do? My life was at a standstill. I was on foot the rest of the summer or the cheesy ten speed. I passed the folks going into the house with a load of stuff as they were coming out to grab more stuff. They asked, " Is your bike back there?" All I could muster was, "It's gone". A true low point in the life of Crockett.