My dad has a race he entered. It begins in NYC and heads out west to… somewhere. Ohio? I don’t know. Each contestant can pick their own form of travel-bike, car, you name it-but they have to stay 100% consistent their choice. Dad picks a pogo stick. Then for reasons unclear to me, I have to man the pogo stick while Dad hangs on my back with a full backpack and my brother holds on in front.
I begin hopping us up the Westside Highway on Manhattan. My brother insists I first take them up to watch a movie in the Bronx, which is actually Greensboro, NC. While they watch the movie, I explain to a guy behind the concessions counter what I am doing. He just says, “oh, yeah” as though he had done the same. Like it was a rite of passage to hop your father and brother on a pogo stick to Ohio for a contest where others use cars.
After the movie, I hop them back down to the George Washington Bridge but I become hydrated and my legs get tired. My brother and father seem happy about the ride. I do my best to stay on the dirt path beside the two lane road that is supposed to be the Westside Highway.
My kicking legs wake me up from this. I’m super thirsty and very tired. I swear I only had 2 bowls of Kashi protein and fiber cereal for dinner.