Kids you don't want to end up like Andy Ackerman.

Back in the days of youth when Summers were always endless and future seemed to sparkle with vigor and luster, Andy Ackerman was king.
He was a few years our senior as a result of staying back twice and when we started sixth grade, he dropped out. That was like, wow! He was afraid of nobody and adults were afraid of him. When we were sucking on Tootsie Pops and drinking Pepsi, he was smokin' Kents and drinking Ballentine. Me and Andy had in common that both of our Dads were "killed in Viet Nam" this was a euphanism for our Dads being skirt chasers and us in effect bein' basterds. In retrospect I guess it seemed better that we gave these fellers some kind of heroes death rather than suffer the indignities that these bums got a woman pregnant and high tailed it. Back then, folks had standards not like today. Bein' a single Mom was a stigma, even worse if she were a drunk. So if some Commies killed my Dad folks could understand my Mom's drinking, nevermind he was really out in Reno having impropper relations with a dozen or more showgirls and prositutes. Anywhoes back to Andy Ackerman. This guy was brave, braver than brave. He'd hop the fence and wrestle with the O'malley's dog, the meanest dog in town. He stole gum from the pharmacy right under the pharmacist's nose. He talked back to teachers, cops, you name it. He even introduced me to smoking grass. We would have followed him anyware, he was our hero. All that changed one Fall day at Meatloaf Hill.
Meatloaf Hill was this tall eroded hill at one end of the woods, we called it that cuz the dirt was a reddish color and the little bits of green scrub that grew on it looked like Parsley sprinkled on top of meatloaf. Since all the sand and dirt had eroded away with the rain a bunch of big rocks and boulders had settled at the bottom of the hill. We always dared each other to ride our bikes down but no one ever did, even as kids we knew it was dangerous. But Andy Ackerman didn't care. He had just stolen a brand new Schwinn Stingray off some kid and was itching to push it to its limits. So we all sat on our rides (that what we called our bikes back then) at the top of ole Meatloaf Hill and cheered our hero on. He would be the first kid to achive the impossible. That cool autumn day life and the world seemed limitless. Andy chugged down a whole can of beer and took off down the hill and imediately ran into trouble. The sand was too soft and his bike couldn't find purchase (this was before the days of mountain bikes) he started to slide sideways and eager to impress us he showed no fear. Then he tumbled and lost the bike, two meteors falling to earth, Andy hit the rocks first and the noises were horrible, his labored grunting and bones cracking. Then the bike hit him, when the dust settled we could see his broken and twisted body lying on the rocks. Blood everywhere or red sand we couldn't tell. I've seen a lot of accidents in my days from my time in the Navy and the 21 years I spent as a lineman and a couple of tragic deaths but none of it had the impact on me that ole Andy Ackerman's ill fated ride did. Andy eventually recovered but he was never the same, we had lost our hero. We also learned that disappointment would play a big role in the future. Andy would sit on his front porch and drink, we saw less and less of him and it wasn't a big surprise when we found out he hung himself in the woods. Andy was 17 when he killed himself and my hero truly died. Sometimes when I lie awake at night I cry to myself and remember that day at Meatloaf Hill. Drugs and alcohol have erased all memory of my highschool graduation, senior prom and other pleasant events that I would like to remember but this seems like it was yesterday. Ken Jr. has an old bike in the garage so maybe later today I'll take a ride out to Meatloaf Hill and drink a toast to our old hero. I miss you, Andy.

Tim