Boyz in the Hood

Regardless of how open minded or tough you are when you cross the tracks, you know you are on the other side. There’s a section of the rail trail I’ve always avoided, a sketchy highway for miscreants paved with broken glass. The path is essentially a 2 mile pit nestled between cesspools and housing projects masked with kudzu to give it a natural appearance.

This Sunday Silk and I figured it was cold enough that the dirtbags would be hunkered over burning tires and staying out of trouble. We decided not to exit the trail at the usual safe zone and continue north toward home. Early in to our crossing we stopped to admire the discolored scum and trash floating in the holding ponds on either side of us and throw on an extra layer of clothes. While I was taking pond scum photos Silk noticed some sketchy activity further up the trail. The locals scattered into their vine covered hideout when we got back on our bikes.

As we approached the area were the dirtbags fled a mangled bike left behind set off alarm bells in my head, I told Silk to look high and I would look low to detect a possible ambush. Without warning a large wooden table leg crashes to the ground in front of me, when I turned to see where it came from another one was flying through the air at us. I no longer wonder where the director of the Matrix got his idea to have spinning objects moving through the air while everything else is in suspended animation. The second table leg was launched from 20 feet above and spun between us missing Silk’s head and my arms by inches. Once out of range we turned to face our attackers, two smug ghetto kids atop an iron fence.

Although I couldn’t get to them, my solace was knowing they were stuck in the ghetto and bad things would happen to them down the road, hopefully sooner than later. My anger slowly morphed into sadness thinking about those kids, there’s a good chance they have a terrible home life without roll models and very few opportunities in life. They were trapped but I got to retreat to a safe comfortable home.

Where would all of us be if we were born into poverty or neglect? Be sure to give your family extra hugs the next time you see them and thank them them for what you are.