THE BAD SIDE OF TOWN

It Matters When The Bad Side Of Town Is Better Than Your Town Now.

via instahall.com

Remember those days, those second bike days, the days after your first bike?

You moved up. You were cool. You were road worthy.

And you knew how to cruise with the quarter you stole from your mom’s purse.

You’d leave through the front door on Saturday morning, just another ten year old on the front porch.

Then you crouched under the front window, ran around the back of the house to the carport on the other side, let the air out of your brothers’ tires so they couldn’t follow, and rode off with no one the wiser.

You’d be gone a few hours, down the hill, across Broadway, past the drive-in, headed for the slough. You wouldn’t be gone long enough to alarm parents, but it was the bad side of town if ever there was one. And it was off limits.

Houses stood back on the right side of 16th Street with forest behind them. The left side was broken into blocks with all roads heading toward the bay.

You’d meet up with other biker ten year olds with a quarter in their pocket, race around the mall parking lot, then grab a root beer on the way home.

No one talked.

It was perfect ground for a bad seed and Johnny San Dune was ready to grow. Except his name wasn’t Johnny San Dune and he got dropped from the cool guys on bikes club when he failed the shoplifting part of membership.

His mom busted him when she found a new pen and notebook in his jacket pocket. He couldn’t even make it past his mom? The other guys stole rings and necklaces and he stole a notebook and a pen. And his mom got him. Not cool.

You remember the bad side of town growing up? It’s where you want to live now instead of a strip mall town with those freakish flag/banners/wind sock blowing sideways on every corner. It’s starting to look like a medieval market place in the suburbs for shoppers on their steel steeds.

Now you can’t get away from the noise. Where are those silent companions from long ago, those quiet acts of bike sliding bravery?

Now if you want to cut away for a few hours you can’t go alone. Loner at the brewfest is not a good look. Loner at the river wall seems depressing. Besides, if you wanted to check out for a few hours you have to check in with your wife first.

Where would you go if you did take the time? The bad side of Portland is the good side. The eastside used to be hard, hair on a street sign, teeth in the gutter, hard.

Northwest Portland was a biker gang haven. It looked like a biker gang with a hundred motorcycles leaning into the curb pipes first.

It sounded like a biker gang when they all fired up on a one, a two, a three. Too timed.

Yesterday’s bad sides are looking good today.

Instead of heading out, you ask your partner if they want to do something together.

Shocking, I know. A long married couple on a date. Instead of feeling the icy teeth of the marriage trap you take a good look at the woman beside you.

She looks like she’d fit right in on the bad side of town you remember and that makes you feel pretty damn good.