That Night I Got Lost

Ah yes

That’s another thing

That night I got lost

The young American man was zooming down St Kilda road so fast that if anything popped in front of him it would mean disaster. He must have been going somewhere between 30 to 40k an hour.

At any moment the bike could very well just fly apart

It was the first time he was taking the bike out for a test. The school year was still young and he planned to buy a bike off one of the outgoing bochurim for a hundred bucks or less. However, walking down the street he discovered a crappy old bicycle amongst a bunch of other bulky garbage in front of someone’s house. Practically a free bike! The young man took it, changed the tires, and made it his own.

Only problem was the bike threatened to kill him

None-the-less he brashly decided to pump his way up that hill and go as fast as he could all the way down, actually keeping up with traffic along the way. He continued biking until it was time to turn around and head back. It was getting late.

Getting back would be simple

Just follow the road just the way you came

He did just that. Except the other side was a bit different. It seemed to drop into a highway, so he took the side street instead. Except that side street turned to the left, but he was able to exit onto a normal road. Simple enough. Now he was facing west. He simply had to continue west and the then make a right turn to once again be heading south. Going south he’d inevitably hit Carlisle St.

West, south, west, south

Simple as that and he’d be back

But

That’s what he thought

The side streets screwed him up

He was really going south, east, south, east

And he was biking really fast

Sometime later, really far away…

…ghost town

…no cars

…no people

No phone

No idea where he is.

He only needs to know one thing

Where

is

north

once he knows that he can find the ocean

and follow it up to Carlisle

Talk about the most depressing situation ever. Poor guy just wants to lie down in his bed and he’s been biking since a quarter till ten. Passing by brightly lit car dealerships and carwashes, and they’re playing depressing ‘lonely guy music’ you know like “…on this eeeemptyyy rooooad…” or some such and there aint a soul in sight…

…finally there’s a man in a car at an intersection. Ugh, thank G-d. The young man rides over and dismounts. After all this time there’s someone that can at least point to where St Kilda is. The young man walks over and waves to the driver to roll down his window. The driver looks at him with a startled look.

He drives away!

That &$#*$!$

&#^$&

#^#%$

The young man just stands there in the middle of the road watching that car speed away. It seemed the epitome of just how bad it could get. He’s so despairing, so angry, that he throws his helmet.

Then he has to run down the hill and get it…

…Riding aimlessly for who the heck knows how long who the heck knows where… he spots a truck in some site where they’re doing road work. Inside is some guy! Huzzah! He asks the man in the truck where St Kilda is.

“You wanna get to Melbourne [he simple says Melbourne, not St Kilda as in, that’s how far away I am]. Oh, you’re mile away from Melbourne mate. Miles away.”

The young man didn’t care. He wanted to get back. It turned out that north was completely not where he thought it was and he was riding away from the beach.

He rode and rode and rode….

…and he got back at flipping two o’clock in the morning.