Sparky's Ramp

     "Sparky, get over here, man!"

     The Outsiders, (a.k.a. the Howard St. gang of Waterloo, Iowa),
yelled out with emphatic glee. I was the gang's leader.

     "Look at this ramp we built."
     "WOW, AWESOME!" I replied. "Anyone jumped it yet?"
     All eyes, in one accord, stared at me with crunched in eyebrows.
     "No wayyyyy, do you think we're loony bins or somethin'? It's all your's buddy-
boy."
     "All...mine, huh?"
     "Yes, you're the Sparkman, come on."

     Why, yes, of course I am. What was I thinking? I'm not human; I can accomplish
anything that dares get in my way. After all, I'm nine years old.

     The ramp...

     Sparky's Ramp!

     I examined it like a golfer preparing for the putt that if made, will claim him
victor of the tournament.

     The ramp was noticeably different in structure than any ramp I had jumped
previously. They consisted of a small two by four placed on the biggest rock we could
find. Nothing too fancy, or of any significance. They were fun to routinely jump.

     Such was not the case with "Sparky's Ramp."
     This was a piece of magnificent enormity!

     It took up the space of an entire house. The ramp was a big, long plank-like sheet
of thick wood. It looked like the death plank of Captain Hook's pirate ship on Peter Pan.

     Supporting the plank were concrete blocks forming an igloo-like shape. There
were three blocks stacked one on top of the other, with three blocks across, making up a
grand total of three complete rows.

     I could now see why all the guys were chicken to make the jump.
     I felt chicken too, but I didn't utter a word of complaint. I was determined to
become the rooster.

     I strutted my way to the garage to get the object that would help me conquer the
ramp.

     MY BIKE!

     It was the lightest, fastest, and coolest of all bikes in the neighborhood.
     The guys coveted my bike.
     The drool would ooze from the corners of their mouths, as they would plead for
the privilege to ride it.
     I proceeded to walk "the drool machine" up four city blocks to my starting point.
My purpose was to cover as much ground as possible, so I could be as fast as the speed of
light.

     I got on my bike.

     Suddenly, I heard two voices, just like in the Tweety and Sylvester cartoons. Every
time Sylvester would get ready to enforce a plan to get Tweety, an angel would appear on
one shoulder, and the devil on the other.
     The voice of the angel said, "Rick, you're much too smart to do something so
stupid."

     I ignored the angel.

     The devil, with a confident whisper, exclaimed, "Go for it, Sparkster, you know
you're the leader. Don't you dare turn back. Don't you even dare...

     The excitement grew and my fears had disappeared.

     My heart pumped hard and fast, like pistons of an engine, moving up and down at
an indefinable rate.

     My heart sprung right out of my chest.
     It must have.
     Sure it did.

     I'm on my bike pedaling vigourously. My squinting eyes zeroed in on the target,
the ramp.

     What's going on?
     I am in some kind of time warp.
     The elements summon themselves, enveloping my entire being to a place where
time runs slow.

     The zone...I was in my zone.

     The foot pedals on my bike were moving so fast that they appeared to be going in
the opposite direction.
     I was hauling some major butt; light speed accomplished!
     The front tire thrust into the ramp.
     The bike and I soared to heights unknown.
     I closed my eyes, and let go of the handlebars.
     I put my hands above my head.
     I began to shout out loud, "I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT!"

     At this moment, my body went into two complete air borne flips. I was sure my
spirit left my body, and so did my bike.

     "Call the ambulance!"
     "Call the ambulance!"

     "He's hurt."
     "Is he breathing?"
     "Does he have a pulse?"
     "Oh my, there's blood everywhere."
     "Rick, what have you done to yourself?"
     "Hurry, get his mom. Quick, he might be dead!"

     My eyes opened to a circle of every mom on the block, hand in hand. They were
praying for me. I couldn't figure this out, because I didn't listen to the voice of the angel.
Maybe I was really dead, and had made my way to heaven?

     "He's alive, Sue!" one frantic woman cried.

     "Can you hear me, Ricky?" my mom asked with tears streaming down her
glowing cheeks.
     "yeah, Ma', what's the big fuss about anyway?"

     Everyone began to laugh through their horror-filled faces.
     "That's my tough boy," Mom said with sighing relief.

     "Come on Ma', you know I have bionic parts. I will never die."
     I jumped up with brimming confidence. I looked down, and saw blood all over
my Incredible Hulk shirt.
     Yep, that must be it. I became the Incredible Hulk.
     There were rips and holes all over my shirt and jeans. This was my proof.

     All my friends were shouting with pride.
     "You're the man, Sparky. You are THE MAN!"

     My place and time in the neighborhood was set. I became a legend. Kids will talk
of this event from generation to generation. No one dares to make or jump a ramp bigger then
"Sparky's Ramp."