I Have An Idea!
I’d spoken to Marvin and his cute-but-jerky friend for maybe 15 minutes. I’d been too busy trying to drink as much alcohol as I could physically consume.
My reasoning: this was the last time I would ever drink alcohol. I was going to stay sober for the rest of my life! So I had to be sure to drink all the beer and shots available – all on my credit card, of course – and drink anything new that looked appealing. (Wine coolers actually sucked.)
When the bar closed, Marvin headed out to “pick up some stuff.” I’d gone to the bar wearing my leather jacket and boots to find a motorcycle ride to rehab, so I didn’t need any stuff.
In spite of having chains on his belt, a well-worn black leather jacket, a scraggly beard and a wooden leg, Marvin was a soft-spoken biker who didn’t talk much as I prattled on from the sidecar.
Eventually I realized that Marvin couldn’t hear a thing I was saying. The motorcycle was loud.
I decided to just enjoy the ride. During all my years as a biker, I’d never ridden in a sidecar. It was quite comfortable, so I snuggled down into it and relaxed. I could just lean back and stare at the stars as we rode through the country to wherever we were going. I could even light cigarettes if I ducked beneath the tiny sidecar windshield.
After riding for what seemed like forever in the glorious summer night, we stopped at a small brick building where, apparently, Marvin worked. He went inside and came out with a bag of stuff that he tied to the back of the motorcycle.
I started talking incessantly when Marvin reappeared. We stood next to the bike and smoked cigarettes for a long time. I told him my whole life story, about walking out of detox, and how hard it was to find a rehab that would take me.
“Well I guess we’d better get going then,” Marvin finally said, gearing up.
Erie was two hours away from where I lived, but I was not in a hurry to get there, to let this gorgeous night end. Sunrise was looming.
“I have an idea!” I said brightly, when it became clear that Marvin was ready to go. “I know a bar that opens at 6 a.m.! We could grab a couple of beers for the road and then head out.”
Marvin likely didn’t have young girls asking him for a ride to rehab every night so he asked, “Where is it?”
“It’s in Turtle Creek!” I said. I’d seen the “WE OPEN AT 6AM” sign on a bar door years earlier.
“I think I can get us there,” Marvin said.
I hopped into the sidecar, pulled on my helmet, and enjoyed every minute of the ride. I dozed off at some point, so I have no idea how far we rode. Waking up as the sun started appearing on the horizon, I believed life couldn’t get any better.
Then, just as I thought we’d never get to the bar, I saw it – and pointed. We went in and got two beers, my treat – on credit, of course.
At 6:45 I suggested: “Let’s go to Barry’s! It’s really close to here and it opens at 7!”
Marvin shrugged. Minutes later we were pulling onto Broadway, the main drag in Pitcairn. “It’s right there!” I yelled over the engine. I was positively gleeful.
Marvin pulled over and parked, smiling at my giddishness. I felt like I truly belonged in these dregs.
Barry’s was just opening up.