My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 8/Part 1: Bike Burn

Fonzie's POV:

I am going to prove to that little kid that I love him with all my might, that I'm not gonna leave him in the dust like my own dad did to me. I'm gonna show him a thing or two about how to live on this fishing trip. It's gonna be so awesome to see his face when I display what I've got up my sleeves.

Surprising myself, I get up bright and early this morning 'caus I know Mr. C hates being late, even if it's for something fun–that and I guess I am sort of excited. More than sort of. All my stuff is packed already, which wasn't so hard since I've packed light–just a spare leather jacket, some shorts, and some T's. Don't know what else I'll need. Oh, and the fishing bucket and sun hat. Gotta have those. Guess I should let Mr. C take the reins on this one since this is my first time ever going fishing before in my life. I hope Bobby likes it. That's all that really matters anyway.

Just before leaving my apartment, I take a quick glance at my hair in the mirror and remember that I still should have my daily change of comb, plus a spare. Ya just never know when you'll need an extra comb. When I reach the Cunninghams'–which ain't too far at all–I click my tongue as I drop my suitcase at the front door and mosey on in.

Mrs. C is making fresh scrambled eggs with bacon. Bobs is sitting all ready at the table. So is the rest of the family–and Potsie and Ralph. Those two bozos tip me off. It makes sense that the Cunningham family would be 'round the table as usual in the morning, but not them. What would they be doing here, now, right before we're about to leave for our trip?

"Good morning, Fonzie," Mrs. C says cheerfully. "Here's your plate. Eat up."

I take it with a deliberate "thank you" to make sure I'm setting a good example of manners for the kid. I think it works because he follows suit after me. Just when I plan to sit next to him, Richie beats me to it. "Hey, c'mon," I say. I glare at him until he gets the hint to scoot somewhere else. Once I sit, I pat Bobby's head and kiss the top of it. "How's the cool kid today?"

Bobby glows as he begins to spill the beans. "Daddy, Richie says it's a surprise for you, but he asked Mr. C if he and his friends could come too...then Joanie and Mrs. C say they're coming too. It's gonna be great! Oh, and it's gonna be the ocean instead of the lake! More than a fishing trip–a family vacation!" He's out of breath by the time he finishes.

Great. A family vacay. Eh, maybe it would be fun if it would be JUST me, Bobs, and the Cunninghams, not tweedle dee and tweedle nitwit, but it sounds like I don't have much of a choice in this. I glance at Mr. C to make sure he's on board with it, and he's smiling giddier than I've seen him since–I can't even remember when he last smiled this big–like ever.

I give my best fake smile back at him. I swear though, if either Potsie or Ralph sour our great time, it's gonna be on their heads. No one's gonna keep me from seeing my boy have the time of my life–oh–I mean his life.

Anyway, we gobble up our good and hearty breakfast in two swallows, then we all gather between Mrs. C's station wagon and Richie's convertible to throw our luggage in the back of them. I notice that Mrs. C was sweet enough to pack a suitcase just for Bobby, of Richie's old beach things. I never even thought about buying him swim gear. Well, I suppose now he's set. I soon realize after counting each of the car seats that some of us would have to stack or sit on the floor, since we've got so much luggage–and for only a day trip–like, c'mon. There is NO WAY in hell I'm squishing in like that. In fact, maybe I'll just follow behind on my bike. No problem. No problem at all, right?

*****

Okay, no, I was dead wrong. DEAD wrong. An hour into the ride, I begin to realize, like the dope I am, that I decided to wear shorts. I should've worn jeans on the way there. My crotch and my thighs are on fire right now. I'm gonna be walking cowboy-style for the rest of our trip. Ain't that just swell. I hope Bobby and the rest of them are having a good time in their cushy four-wheeled vehicles.