Racing with Hidalgo

Ruffians

I first met Hidalgo by a drinking fountain a few yards outside the public library's front doors. I had just parked my bike and was turning a corner from the sidewalk to the courtyard when I saw him getting his face wrecked by a couple of rich-looking youths. Not knowing what the fight was about, I decided not to get involved. I had recently become jaded by violence and vowed to have as little to do with it as possible. Since I was about the same size as the two teens, I believe they thought it wise to let me pass - considering I had the look of a guy with no intention of helping. But then (for some reason) I reconsidered.

I could tell they were surprised at my return. I saw it in their eyes when they realized I was smashing one of the thugs' faces against the cold, hard, stainless steel fountain. The uncomfortable silence that followed the event confirmed my suspicions.

Now blood can be a huge motivator, especially when streams of it are coming from your comrade's nose. It can either incite you to fight or, it can inspire you to run. It immediately took the astonished ruffian aback. Shocked to see me moving toward him with all the calmness of a kid walking down the center aisle at church, I guess he decided he had had enough and left his 'friend' to our devices. I thought it best to let him go.

Turning around, I witnessed an event that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

"Oh, crap!" I thought as I saw Hidalgo helping his former attacker up and into the library.

They walked through the double doors into the foyer and straight to the librarians' front desk. Eyes widened as the two lady curators snapped into action. One grabbed a first aid kit, while the other helped the young boy to the sofa. Busily applying pressure, the two women employed themselves, attentive to the boy's nose. It was at this opportunity that I decided it was time to go.

As I turned to run, I saw Hidalgo thumb-typing on his handheld computer. "I hope they have phones in prison!" I thought, but then I heard him say:

"Wait!"

"Wait? Wait, for what? For the ladies to call the cops!"

Then he said:

"I'm almost done."

"Oh, we're done, buddy!"

Running to the black tinted library doors, I was surprised to see him following me.

"I just needed to confirm that the libraries outside security cameras caught the encounter." Said Hidalgo as we ran to our bikes. "Then, I felt a brief explanation was necessary."

We hopped on our bikes and hovered down the street. Moving at a fast clip, I was amazed to find that he was riding alongside me. I turned my head to look at him and was dumbstruck as I saw his self-made hover-bike.

"Nice bike," I said, as the wind whistled by.

"Thanks, It took me a week at the boneyard to find all the parts, but putting it together was a snap."

"How fast can it go?"

"One-hundred ninety, but If I can find a better anti-gravity module, it'll go faster!"

"One-ninety! ...can you help me build one?"

"Sure! But we might have to hang out for a few days?"

"If you can help me build a bike that can go one-ninety, we can hang out the whole week!"

We needed to go back to his house to pick up a trailer. It was a hovering flatbed that could be magnetically attached to his bike. We rode through town, then traveled down twisting neighborhood streets. Two and three-story houses passed us on either side of the road with the branches of tall trees shading our way. The concrete, which looked and smelled like the original stuff, was made of a living silicone. Now it wasn't alive; It just could repair itself and required minimal maintenance. At times something green would pop through a crack, but the gap would quickly repair itself, and the ruff surface would look smooth again.