Letters (Nov 19)


the summers were long and we spent most of the afternoons/evenings on the streets with our bikes. We grew older and our interest moved away from silly games and we became silly girls, flirting with boys who had found our complex and rode through it on their bikes. We were 14 and very interested.

We became friends with two of them, rode our bikes and sat on our doorstep and talked until my mother told them to leave.
One of them owned a few motorcycles, including a Mini-Yamaha. Motorcycles and BMWs (especially the Model 2002) were the hype then. He taught us to ride the Mini-Yamaha which was a cute little bike.
So I rode off down the street, stepping into the next gear, and the next, feeling very proud of myself being so cool. But unfortunately he had forgotten to tell me that I had to switch back to neutral and start with the lower gear to be able to drive back. The engine stalled and I was stuck at the end of the road, not knowing how to start it back up.

I just stood there and waited. Finally I saw him walking down the road towards me. You all had waited and waited and when I had not come back he had to come and find me. He explained the problem, started the engine and we both drove back to my house. I felt so embarrassed.

Remember, nobody panicked when I did not drive back right away. There were no cell-phones, right? So you had to be more patient when one person did not show up. Giving it enough time, you then would head out and look for that person. Today I panic if my daughter does not answer my text message within 2 minutes.

Anyway, that same boy is a very good friend of the family now. I met up with him and his beautiful wife in Munich this April during my visit. He still fiddles with engines, owns a few valuable cars and a Harley. To me he is still that same teenager who always came by with greasy jeans and the dirty hands of a mechanic.

NaBloPoMo November 2015

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