Some of my friends in Junior High and High School were envious that I had three sisters and they were stuck with none. Their logic, though quite flawed, was that my sisters would always be bringing "hot" friends over and I would somehow get my pick of the litter. What my friends failed to realize was that my sisters were mostly normal and didn't exactly hang out with the fashion model crowd. In fact, I don't recall my sisters ever bringing "hot" girls around. My friends also failed to factor into the equation the fact that (even then) I was a geek. I was not exactly a chick magnet!
Despite their failure to hook me up with any "hot" girls, my sisters did provide much entertainment in other areas of life. Kim was always the prissy one. It was really almost too easy to get her riled up about something and send her off on a tirade. Beth was always "the baby," and coddled accordingly. This afforded me many opportunities to pick on her.
Debbie, though, was different.
Debbie was the oldest.
Sometimes Mom and Dad would leave her in charge. That was the best! You see, Kim thought she suddenly became the mom anytime she was left in charge; so that was a real pain. Debbie, though, would just read or listen to records. She kind of had a "no blood - no foul" approach to being in charge. I could do pretty much whatever I wanted when Debbie was in charge - as long as I didn't get Kim or Beth yelling at me.
Debbie seemed to relate to me better than either of the other girls. She got up well before dawn on many Saturday or Sunday mornings to go watch my hockey games; although, as I have mentioned before, I still think she was going in hopes of seeing Mike Rancillio rather than to watch me play hockey. Debbie also often proved to be my cohort in crime at times. Perhaps no single event reflected that more than the time she took me on a dirt bike! Mom had a deathly fear of motorcycles of any sort. She was certain that merely sitting on one put you at great risk of life and limb. The thought of her children getting on a motorcycle was abhorrent to her.
But like I said; Debbie was different. Jim had a couple of dirt bikes and several acres of land behind his parents' house where they could be ridden. I was over there for some reason when Debbie asked if I wanted to go for a ride on the land behind the house.
Well, DUH!!!!! OF COURSE I wanted to go for a ride. I was probably 13 or 14 at the time and couldn't think of anything more fun than riding a dirt bike at that particular moment; especially since I figured riding a dirt bike must be really fun since it was a forbidden pleasure!
I hopped on the back and Debbie took off. We looped around through the yard. Debbie picked up the speed just a bit with each passing lap. Soon, we were really dirt biking through the yard.
It was all fun and games - until I messed up.
I had never been on a motorcycle of any sort before and didn't quite grasp the concept of leaning into the turns. Debbie came hard around a corner and gave it gas to gain speed as the bike reached the apex of the turn.
Debbie leaned hard into the turn.
I leaned the other way.
The bike suddenly lost traction and we went down.
It wasn't pretty. While we had been spared any real injuries, we could not escape bumps, bruises, scrapes and cuts. Mom would be furious if she learned of our little riding adventure. Who knows what punishment she might seek to inflict upon me. Debbie - who seemed to be in the proverbial doghouse almost as much as I was - came up with a plan even The Grinch, in all of his devious ways, would have been proud of -
"Don't tell Mom."
It was that simple. It wasn't that we lied to Mom. We just didn't tell her about riding dirt bikes.
I'm not exactly sure how I managed to survive some of my escapades while growing up, but somehow Debbie and I both managed to survive to adulthood. Today marks a special milestone in Debbie's life as she turns the page on another year. I'm sure she hasn't been dirt biking in many years, but the memory of her taking me for a ride still sticks with me even today.
Happy Birthday, Debbie!
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