It was a cool, early fall night, my dad loaded a variety of tools and my mountain bike in our white Ford escort. I climbed in and didn't really know where we were going. We turned away from home, went down the long sloping road that we lived on, and turned right onto the next street. We took a few more turns and wound up at our local high school where we stopped and gazed around. There wasn't anyone around, no one was using the field or track and there wasn't any one working, so we unpacked my mountain bike.
My bike was black, with black wheels with silver rims, training wheels and the han…
