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Them's the BrakesJune 13, 2006 So my usual take on the subject is somewhat ambivalent, ambiguous, and a little bit mixed. After I finished The Mud of the Place, I didn't quite crash; I did feel as if I was biking uphill with the brakes on. My subconscious is ingenious: it's always coming up with new ways for me to hold myself back, avoid taking risks, avoid going too fast. Biking uphill with the brakes on is exactly it. So Friday late afternoon I did some grocery shopping at Reliable Market then walked over to Ocean Park, where I'd left the truck in Rhodry's care. Got in, stuck key in ignition, stepped on brake . . . Squish. All the way to the floor. Not good. Brakes all of a sudden seemed like a good thing. You don't know what you've got till it's gone, etc. It wasn't entirely gone, however. With pedal kissing the floor I had some slow-down capacity, but was I about to rip heedless down New York Avenue to the Beach Road, through Five Corners and home? I was not. I barely topped 25; I cruised through the corners in second gear, I let the gradual upgrades do most of my speed control. Safely at home, I blessed Uhura and her brakes, then gave her the weekend off. The brakes on my bicycle were in much better shape. After carefully negotiating the grade down Skiff Ave. to Lagoon Pond Road, I dropped Uhura off at Courtesy Motors just before 8:30 on Monday morning. Just before 3 p.m. she was ready to be picked up. The brake line had broken; most of the fluid had leaked out. Why, I asked Larry, did I have any brakes at all? "Remember," Larry asked with a dry twinkle, "a guy named Ralph Nader?" Yep, I remember Ralph, but I'd forgotten that once upon a time he'd managed to require car manufacturers to provide dual brake systems, so that if the main system failed you'd still have a backup. That's what I drove home from Ocean Park with on Friday: the backup. Thank you, Ralph. Thanks to all the forces that help us slow down, so we can make it round the corner without hitting a fence. Thanks to the summer solstice, when daylight starts to wane. At winter solstice we gather to call the sun back. Why don't we gather in June to call back the dark? We wouldn't appreciate it if the days grew longer and longer, if the grass burned to cinders and we couldn't get any sleep because the sun was always in our eyes. Here's to the brakes. They won't help you get to the top of the hill, but you'll be happy to have them on the way down.
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