[Note: This takes place in a time and place much like our own, only it's the eighties. References to 80s movies are definitely appreciated.] Jim actually liked riding the school bus, as he felt the same way towards all mass transit systems; one thing he appreciated of the two trips to Europe he managed to take was the efficient railway system that stretched through the Old Continent.
This morning, however, thanks to a momentary distraction on wether he needed to bring along his calculator or not Jim missed the bus at the last moment -- something that did not happen too infrequently, in fact. He shrugged, sighed, and got his bycicle out of the garage. Jim put some alcohol in the miniature Stirling engine he built on it, hit the preheat switch, and dragged the bycicle out into the front yard waiting for the tiny contraption to start itself.
Braking with a screech on the front porch was a GM pickup truck loaded with five people one or two years older than Jim. A couple were classmates with him, other either went to the same school or just hung out with the driver -- one Dirk Baum, UCLA-bound with a football scholarship and the closest thing to a nemesis Jim ever had. "Race you to school, Jimbo?"
"No, thanks."
"What's the matter, Jimmy? Chicken?" Chuckles and laughters came from the barely-awake teens in the truck. Jim frowned, but decided to let go. "You got a ticket last time, Dirk." Not to mention the fact that, since Jim obviously lost, he basically forced him to pay it. Then again, he hadn't turned his bike into a Stirling motorcycle either back then...
"Okay, Jimmy, I still say the race is on!" Dirk proclaimed amis the laughter, and sped off. The engine finally sputtering to life was a good prompting for Jim to do what he wanted to do from the start and show the jerk, just for this once. He jumped on the saddle and helped the engine out by pedaling like crazy, through a shortcut too small for cars to pass through but which he used quite often the not-so-few times he missed the bus.
What followed was a blur. Jim raced through front yards, back alleys, a junk yard, and eventually zipped through the school gates. Jim leaned his bike on a wall, walked past the gate to look for any sign of Dirk's truck, and waited. True to form, less than a minute later the red pick-up made its way past the gates. "I win, Dirk." Jim said simply, trying hard not to show his opponent how the ride actually exhausted him.
"No no no no no, see, it's who gets to school first. This is the courtyard. Later, loser!"
A screech of tires, and Dirk's truck was on its way to parking almost right in front of the front door. Jim sighed.... business as usual.
Glad that he apparently solved the overheating problem with the engine at least, he hurried to the front door as the bell rang.
Sun Oct 28 04:21:11 2001
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