Riggs grew up in an ordinary family, the last of four children.  He was always curious about the world around him, but some things he just couldn't figure out.  When the other boys in the neighborhood would tease each other, he couldn't tell if it was all in good fun, or an unforgivable insult. Many times he would come home long before the other boys, being upset at something they said that didn't sit well with him. Because of this, Riggs went out less and less often and spent more and more time in his room playing video games or watching tv in the basement.  

Schultz was a slightly older boy in the neighborhood who seemed to be good at everything and liked by everyone. He was involved in sports and loved to tinker in the garage with his dirtbike when he was not out riding it in the hills surrounding the town. Schultz first met Riggs a week or two after Riggs moved into the neighborhood.  He was friendly and patient with Riggs right from the start, but he also knew how to be straight with him as well.  

One day Riggs was walking to school and Schultz stopped to offer him a ride.  

"Hey there bud, what's good?" Schultz called out from the driver’s window of his beat-up, square body, yellow pick-up truck.  

"Not much, just couldn't get a ride from my parents today so I'm walking to school." Replied Riggs.  

"I'm heading that way, hop in and I'll give you a ride." Schultz offered.  

Riggs quickly opened the door of the truck, and fastened his seatbelt for the short ride to school.  The seatbelt was twisted and felt uncomfortable to Riggs who unclicked the seatbelt, adjusted it, and refastened it.  

“Hey Schultz, tell me how you got into riding dirtbikes." Riggs asked.  

"I saw this dude on YouTube who was riding wheelies all through Philly on a dual sport bike.  I thought it looked really cool and I wanted to try it. I got my first dirt bike when I was 12.  It wasn't much of a bike, but it got me here and there."  Schultz replied.  

"Do you think that my past experience with riding a mountain bike would help me switch over to riding dirt bikes?" Riggs questioned. Riggs had an old mountain bike that his dad had given him. He had taken it out a handful of times and enjoyed the challenge of picking his way through the rocky trails near his house. 

"Well, they aren't exactly the same thing but balance, hand eye coordination, and picking a good line to follow on the trails is basically the same for both." Schultz told him.  

"Cool, cool," said Riggs, "I just need to get my dad to buy me one, but that’s easier said than done.”

Later that night, Riggs pushed his peas around his plate as he tried to come up with a way to ask his dad to buy him a dirtbike.  

"Hey dad, you know how you are always telling me that it would be good for me to get outside more?"  Riggs stammered.  

"Well, yes. I remember," replied his dad.  

"What if you helped me get a dirt bike so I can ride around with Schultz?" Riggs blurted out.  

"Those look kind of dangerous and I don't want you to get hurt!" exclaimed his dad.  

"Dad, Schultz already has some boots and a helmet I could use, and I promise to ride only on approved trails.  Besides, didn't you used to ride a dirtbike a long time ago?" Riggs replied.  

“Yeah bud, I used to dirt bike a lot when I was your age. I’m telling you, though, working 15 years in the E.R. will turn anyone away from motorbikes. A snapped femur is a nasty thing.” 

Dad paused for a moment, chewing his turkey meatloaf thoughtfully. 

“Alright, let me at least think about it while we finish dinner.” 

Riggs chowed down faster than he'd ever done before. He almost choked half to death trying to eat.

"All done with my food!" Riggs blurted. 

After dinner, Dad retreated to his office for the usual ritual of 90’s Alternative Rock hits and medical charting. Hesitantly, Riggs hovered by the office door. 

“Is there any chance we could at least browse for a dirt bike online?” He asked.

"Let's see what we got here." Dad laughed. Riggs pulled up a chair next to dad in front of the family desktop. His face immediately changed to a disgruntled smirk mixed with despair as none of the bikes were within an acceptable price range.

"W-what?! They must think we own the world for that kind of price!" Riggs muttered "Looks good but the frame is warped." "Near mint but the price is sky high." 

After scrolling to nearly the end of the internet, they stumbled upon something surprising. 

"Ah, I've got it, look here." His father leaned in to see what should have been a miracle. "Perfect find out of a million. You've got yourself a bike," he said to Riggs in an exasperated voice.  

They had found a great dirt bike for a beginner. It was just the right size for Riggs with a 50 cc motor and smaller frame he could easily straddle and still touch the ground. Riggs felt his chest burning with a cold flame, excitement most people would call it. He knew it was the one.  His father would have to make an arrangement to buy it with the current owner tomorrow and luckily for them it was just across town. 

The next day the two of them jumped in the old Ford pickup, a clunky sky blue truck on its second motor and second paint job, and headed over to inspect the prospective bike. They soon met with the owner. Standing in the owner’s garage, Riggs inspected the bike from right to left and top to bottom. According to dad, everything seemed to be in working order.  With a little help from his dad, Riggs set the choke on the motor, made sure the bike was in neutral and gave the kickstart lever a firm kick. The bike was stubborn due to sitting for a few days. Three more kicks and the bike came to life.  

"Lucky find there kiddo, you're gonna be responsible with it though." His dad looked him dead in the eyes. "No trouble on that thing or it's gone." He cautioned.

"Okay, okay! I won't!" Riggs replied. He felt like his dad was mad at him for something he didn't even do yet.

"Just a heads up, it's more dangerous than a mountain bike so that's why I don’t want you to goof off on that thing." his dad said. 

"Oh, ok, makes sense, so I'm not in trouble then?"  Riggs asked.  

"No buddy, you are not in trouble, just something I have learned from my own experience, and from teaching moments from my dad," Dad mentioned, "I'm not mad at you, I'm trying to keep you safe."

Riggs always felt that lectures were a type of punishment for something he didn't do but then remembered that college professors give lectures too. So that must mean that lectures are just learning moments that feel uncomfortable, so he didn't mind so much anymore.

Riggs then asked for more advice on motocross and sat down next to his dad. It felt like 20 minutes and he enjoyed every second of it. He was happy to talk and spend time with his dad.  After their back and forth conversation they loaded the little dirtbike into the back of the truck, secured it with tie-down straps, and took it home to their garage.  

After their bike got home into the garage, Riggs invited Schultz over to see his new ride. Schultz was happy to see him get a dirtbike. 

"Now you’ve got one, but can you use it?" Schultz inquired.  

"Probably not.'' Riggs replied sounding defeated upon hearing the question. Riggs went on about how hard it was to release the clutch and engage the throttle at the right time.  He just couldn't find the right balance after trying over and over.  No success, the motor just kept dying.  

"It was like that for me too, the trick is to do this--may I?" Schultz gestured to the dirtbike with both of his hands.  

"I think the problem is-'' The bike roared to life and got louder and louder, then it suddenly went dead silent. Riggs half startled to death at the sudden display of power made by Schultz.  

"The problem is that if you let off the clutch too fast, the engine will die and you’ll be stuck doing it all over again. Let it off slowly as you increase the throttle." Schultz said with the proudest grin that shined brighter than any of the stars in the sky.

"I can't do this or that and or--whatever dude!" Riggs went on. In spite of his frustration, he approached the bike to try the seemingly impossible as he tried to remember the complex advice given to him.

"No way this works, always this or that instead of--" 

The bike somehow tried to kick Riggs off like a wild bull as he was trying to let off the clutch just right.  Riggs let off the gas and stomped the rear brake, looking behind him was a tire streak about three feet long on the driveway.

In a shaken voice Riggs croaked, "How about trying roll starts please?"

Schultz cackled as if he put the town under a curse of a witch. "Mess with the bike, bike messes back!"

"Screw it, I’m going to get my dad to help! " Riggs yelled.

"You're not just gonna ditch this, and wuss out," Schultz said.  

"I'm a novice, treat me like one at least!" Riggs spit back.

Both of them knew he would be getting bruises, noise complaints, and considerable lost time. It took a total of 17 attempts to get the bike rolling down the driveway.  Riggs began to suspect that something might be wrong with the bike.  These fears were quickly cleared after Schultz effortlessly got it into first gear and got the bike moving. 

Schultz told him to "feel the bike move, not you move.  Keep the pitch of the motor moderately high. Don't suddenly put your legs up on the pegs.  The wheels will start rolling when the bike is ready. Just let off the clutch gradually, not instantly."

As Riggs sped by, Schultz smiled at him like a proud father. Standing next to Schultz was Riggs’ dad who too beamed proudly. Shifting his weight and turning was all a breeze until it happened. Riggs turned too sharply and took the inside corner too tight.  He wasn't badly injured, but the bike was laid down on the ground and slid about one yard.  

Riggs got off the ground and dusted himself off. He looked under his arm guards to see no damage.  The bike however was a different story.  All seemed to be fine at first.  There was just a little scratch of the front brake lever, but he quickly found that the front brake was no longer working.

"I guess our plan of biking Thunderbird Trails just got put on hold." Riggs murmured.

Sadly he pushed the bike up the driveway into the garage, with the kickstand extended. A ring tone filled the silence in the garage. 

"I have to go, dinner time!” Schultz declared. "Just bleed the brake or get a new one."

The following weekend, Riggs and his dad went to work trying to figure out why the brake wasn't working.  They opened the cap to the master cylinder, then using a syringe and some tubing tried flushing the brake line free of any possible air bubbles. After over an hour at this they declared defeat.  

"Sorry son," Riggs' dad mumbled, "this one’s got me bested.  We better let the local bike shop have a crack at it." 

"Wait dad, what about Uncle Justin, can't he help?" Riggs questioned.  

"Great thinking buddy, he's a mechanic too," Dad responded.

Uncle Justin used to run a mechanic shop on the other side of the state and had lots of years riding dirt bikes as well. Following a short phone call that night, Uncle Justin came by the next day with some specialized tools.  

"Look at this Riggs, it is a vacuum pump for brake lines." Uncle Justin instructed. “Instead of pushing brake fluid from below, we will vacuum the fluid from the master cylinder reservoir  above. Unless there is a broken part inside the brake, this should work,"   

After multiple attempts, the front brake was still malfunctioning. The front tire continued to ignore the efforts of the front brake to bring it to a stop.  

"Hey guys, this bike looks like it needs a little more attention than I can give it right now, you probably ought to check with the local shop for more help." Uncle Justin calmly suggested. 

Riggs' dad got the keys to the old Ford and told Riggs to get the straps. Riggs had the ramp set in place on the tailgate of the old Ford. They rolled the bike into the bed of the truck and secured it.  After arriving in midtown, the duo rolled the bike down the ramp and out of the truck bed. Gr8t Danes repair shop would hopefully be the answer to their prayers.  

The shop was run by a local mechanic, Mark Edsel. Mark was a squat, pudgy man with a head of salt and pepper hair. He could often be found behind the counter chewing his way through his ever-present stash of mint Lifesavers, or “circle candies,” as the local kids referred to them. Mark specialized in  off road bikes and quads.  

Upon entering the shop, Riggs and his father talked to Mark about the year of manufacture, make, and model of the bike. They also relayed what happened in the crash to hopefully help him find the damage to the bike. The shop had a good reputation, but was also very busy. As they chatted with Mark about possible repairs, the sounds of country music and pneumatic wrenches whirring filled the cramped shop. Outside in the parking lot, there were side-by-sides, ATVs, and mud bikes all over. Having worked out a diagnostic plan with Mark, the pair left the shop and made for the truck in the lot. 

"Ok Riggs," dad said, "let's get out of their way so they can work."  Riggs broke his gaze from all the cool rides on the lot and headed to the truck with his dad.  

A few days later, Riggs' dad got a call from the shop.  "Hey this is Mark at Gr8t Danes. I've got some news for you. I found your part, but it's kind of rare and will cost $350 plus labor."  

Dad told the mechanic he'd have to get back to him and to hold off on moving forward with the repair. That night, the two of them scanned the internet looking for used or aftermarket replacement parts for the front handbrake.  

As they combed through eBay, something caught Riggs’ eye. "Look there dad!" Riggs shouted. "Isn't that just like the one on my bike?"  

They had been searching for half the night and were just about to give up, but there it was!  Riggs had found the needed part for the broken front brake.  

"Good eyes Riggs!"  His dad exclaimed, "I totally didn't catch that!"  

With a few strokes of the keyboard, the correct credit card information was sent and an email pinged indicating the part would soon be shipped.   

Riggs watched the front porch on and off for the next three days hoping for a quick delivery.  No. Such. Luck.  By the end of the week, he had given up on the delivery and tried to occupy his mind with other things. The barking of the family’s dogs alerted Riggs that someone was on the porch. When he looked out the window, there was nothing to see but a delivery man walking away from the home.  Opening the door, Riggs could finally see the small box right next to the front door.  With the help of a small kitchen knife, Riggs had the box opened quickly and excitedly inspected the new front hand brake. After careful inspection, everything looked like a good match. He would have to wait, though, for his dad to return from work to switch out the brakes.  

Dad was home after what felt like hours and the two of them decided dinner could wait, the bike was calling to them. The failed efforts of before now paid off as they quickly removed the old part, attached the new one and almost effortlessly added new brake fluid and purged the brake line of air bubbles with their original technique.  

With awe and wonder, they both watched as the free spinning front tire came to an abrupt stop with just the slightest tug at the brake lever. The bike was fixed!

A quick phone call later and Shultz was at the front door ready to take Riggs out on what would be the first of many memorable outings on their dirt bikes.