Criss Cross

Chapter 7

I finally woke up around nine on Saturday morning. After showering and dressing, I went downstairs and out onto the porch, looking for the morning paper. A van emblazoned with decals of men and women bicycling and the insignia of the U.S. Armed Forces pulled up in front of the house.

To my surprise, Ali jumped out. “Dad!”

A man in his early thirties climbed out the driver’s side. He was wearing a sweatshirt that said u.s. army over bike pants.

He and Ali climbed up the front steps as Ali said, “Captain Abrahamsen is almost on the U.S. Armed Forces bicycle-racing team! I got a flat. We couldn’t fix it, so he offered to drive me home.”

The captain smiled and stuck out his hand. “Arthur Abrahamsen, sir. You’ve got quite a boy there.”

I shook his hand and smiled. “He is that. Thanks for helping him out.”

“My pleasure,” Abrahamsen said, and he chuckled. “He taught me a lot about a lot of different subjects.”

“I hope he didn’t talk your ear off.”

“No, sir,” Abrahamsen said. “Both ears intact. Well, let me get his bike out. He’s going to need a new tire and tube, I’m afraid.”

“We both hit broken glass and got flats,” Ali said as Abrahamsen went over and opened up the rear of the van.

The van was filled with wheels, tires, and other equipment hanging off the walls.

“So, do you race full-time for the military?” I asked as he took out the bike.

“He trains with the team,” Ali said.

“And even that’s hardly full-time,” Abrahamsen said, closing the van doors. “I’m busy over at the Pentagon and up on the Hill, so I try to squeeze in my training rides when I can.” He brought the bike over.

“Well, thank you again,” I said, and we shook hands once more.

The captain smiled at Ali. “It’s always good to meet a fellow cavalryman.”

Ali looked at him, puzzled.

“I used to be in the U.S. Army Fourth Cavalry,” Abrahamsen explained. “Tanks. But I’ve always thought that in this day and age, cavalrymen should be on bikes instead.”

“Mountain bikes,” Ali said, smiling.

“Exactly! They’re more like horses,” Abrahamsen said, pointing at him and winking. “Take care, now. Nice meeting you, Mr. Cross.”

“You too, Captain,” I said.

Abrahamsen got into his van, waved, and pulled out into the street.

“He’s a really nice guy,” Ali said.

“Seems like it,” I said, lifting his bike up.

“Do you think I could be in the cavalry someday?” Ali said.

“In a tank or on a bike?”

“Bike.”

I paused and then said, “You can have anything your heart desires if you work for it.”