Black Saturday: Part Two

And the saga of that horrid Saturday continues.

A little background is necessary. When I was about 12 my dad got me my first pair of roller blades, and little precocious kid that I was, unafraid of injury and death, I was soon able to perform all manner of acrobatic stunts on blades. Think Disney on Ice, on crack.

Looking back, it still amazes me just how heedless of risk I was. True, occasionally I would don protective gear, but most of the time I threw caution to the winds and sashayed my way around the neighbourhood unprotected. I remember reaching incredible speeds, zipping down slopes and racing back up, thinking only of how I could go faster.

Alas, it was not to last. I wish I could relate some fantastic tale of how my youthful blading exploits ended, like how I crushed my legs in self-sacrifice whilst saving damsels in distress, or how I sold my blades to buy a birthday present for my mother.

The truth lacks any perceivable morsel of drama - I simply outgrew my blades, and then decided to wait until I was fully grown before I bought my next pair. Lame, I know.

Imagine then, how vexed I was when I bought a pair about 3 months ago, and discovered that my skills were all gone. When before I could zip my way down CTE on a crowded day, evading any police vehicle determined to apprehend me, I could now barely make the 10m from my porch to my gate without breaking my spine.

Somehow, the magic had all gone!

Perhaps the worst part was that no one believed I was the wonder-kid I remembered myself to be. Now, when I wobble along, trying to catch up with whoever I happen to be blading with, all people see is this newbie fighting to stay upright and alive. I grit my teeth and grin when they condescendingly offer to glue extra beginner wheels to my blades, but my heart aches to soar like I once did.

It wasn't long before I realized my ego was in the way, hampering my growth. I had to let go of the past, and accept that I had to start all over again. And what was the final, devastating blow that did me in?

Just a while back, when I returned home after blading in the neighbourhood, my mother ran out with her camera, snapped a few shots of me, and cheered as I made it back safely.

Enough was enough. I would start from zero, all over again, and climb back to what I used to be.

Strangely though, I found my perspectives changed. Where before obstacles were like flies, bothersome but easily dismissed, now every ledge, rock, car, bench, uneven pavement was a death-trap. I could literally foresee how every little crack in the road would be my undoing - I would trip over one, shatter my skull and burst all my organs, and lie in bed invalid forever.

All this history, the pain, the humiliation, the suffering, rage inside my head every time I blade, and this (back to the present now!) particular Black Saturday was no different.

After the entire body-clock fiasco (see previous post), I grumpily left to meet Haoyun at ECP, where we usually go to blade. Ten minutes into blading, I deliberately slowed down, and let her speed on ahead. This was it, the little bit of personal time I'll devote each session to regaining my previous form.

(You must understand, my master plan was to train in secret while looking like a whale on wheels to the rest of my friends. Laugh at me, would they?!? Bwahaha, oh, how I would stun and flabbergast and amaze and astound them when I finally regained my form!)

So while she was safely ahead, thinking that poor Hanting was having problems catching up again (pshaw!), I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, shut out the noise of the world, conjured a single flickering candle flame in my mind's eye... and Became One With The Blades.

An imperceivable period of time passed. When I opened my eyes and reorientated myself, I was aware of a small crowd around me, most of whom were wide-eyed and clapping and cheering me on. I cricked my neck, and looked back at the skid marks on the ground.

Hmm, not bad, I thought. Judging from the marks I left behind, I had probably pulled off a Devil's Final Temptation, a Double Whammy, a Grinding Flipover-Pass, a Frenchman's Regret and my own creation, a Singapura Schwzing. Not too bad at all.

So I happily resumed my original journey, leaving a gaggle of blading-converts behind. It wouldn't be long before I caught up with Haoyun, and even if she called me a snail again, I would simply smile my secret smile and bide my time.

And then it happened.

A sudden metallic screech. The smell of rubber. A jerk in motion, a sudden tilt, a sense of panic. Imbalance, confusion, chaos. The Fear of Pain.

(EDIT: I am rereading this and I want to clarify, a jerk in motion was not meant to refer to mee!!!)

It took every ounce of skill I had to keep from falling, and when I landed on my blades I heard faint applause. Distractedly, I noted that I had inadvertantly performed a Lover's Duet out of reflex, but my mind wasn't on that at the moment. What had happened to my blades?

Slowing down, I did a systems check, and Realised. That. One. Wheel. Was. Missing.

So it was when Haoyun eventually backtracked that she found me whimpering along that little stretch of road, holding one nut in my hand and frantically trying to find the accompanying screw and wheel. And she did what any loving, caring and thoughtful girlfriend would have done - she laughed her butt off for a whole 5 min, then asked me if I was ok.

But our efforts came to naught. We searched for half an hour, and recovered the screw, but the wheel had simply disappeared. We left eventually... but I think I'll never forget that spot in ECP where my spirit and dreams died a second time.

Oh, how strewn the path to glory is with the caprice of Fate.