Stories From My Past: Bicycle Sadness - Riot Bushes at OSU

When I started attending college at OSU back in 1992, they had these things called "Riot Bushes" lining the sidewalks near the school library. I have no idea if they are still there. I also don't know if "Riot Bush" was a common name or just a local nickname. They looked like any old bushes you'd see outlining somebody's property.

But up close... these things were nasty. They were as solid as a brick. I'm told you could stand on them, although I never tried. They had thorns all over.

Since this was my first year at college, it was also my first year in the Cowboy Marching Band. The band director was a real strict guy. His rules included the following:

1) If you are late, you are wrong. Being late to rehearsal, even by a minute, cost half a letter grade for the semester.
2) If you are ill, you are wrong. Doctors notes wouldn't cut it. In his words, "If you come to me and vomit a lung on my shoes, I will excuse your absence."

It was a Tuesday evening rehearsal, and I was running just a bit tight on time. My dad and I had rigged up a guitar strap to my trombone case, so I could ride my bike with that thing strapped to my back. I looked like a low-flying stubby-winged aircraft as I zoomed down the sidewalk. I took a turn too fast, and crashed into the Riot Bushes.

Now, I wish this had been a head-on collision. It wasn't. I almost made that turn, which means that instead of a head-on crash, I scraped up against the side of the thorn-filled bushes at high speed. Imagine sandpaper on your skin. Big, thick, sandpaper. With fangs. When I finally fell off the bike and hit the ground, I was relieved. By comparison, impact with concrete felt like a kiss from an angel.

My bike was scratched up pretty good over on that right side. Now, imagine what my right leg looked like. I was wearing shorts that day, too.

I walked the bike the rest of the way to rehearsal. They had started already, so I knew I was in trouble. The band director, who had a misplaced sense of drama, let me walk up to the front of the entire band while he just stood there with a horrible, mean-spirited smile on his face. Hey, that was OK. I also have a misplaced sense of drama. :) I made sure to limp as little as possible, and I kept my left side forward as much as I could.

I walked right up to him, and asked if I could have an excused absence. Then I turned so that he could see my mangled bleeding right leg. The look on his face was quite good. The only reply he could manage (as best I can remember) was, "...uh... sure."

I don't remember him ever making any "vomit a lung" comments after that.