Acid Heroes: the Legends of LSD

March 25, 2016

When you’re a bike messenger it’s real easy to meet new people

 

One Maritime Plaza

I have one odd claim to fame. I was a San Francisco bike messenger, off and on, from 1978 to 1984. And I never got in one accident.

The closest I came was this one time when I was riding on the sidewalk at a very fast speed (which you really shouldn’t do but we all did it, we were being paid by the delivery so we all rode like mad men). It was at One Maritime Plaza. This woman, this secretary, suddenly stepped right in front of me. She was coming down from these steps that were within the building. So she was blocked from my view until she stepped on the sidewalk directly in front of me.

I jerked my handlebars in the other direction in the hopes of making a sharp turn that would avoid hitting her. But my fist, that was clenching my handlebar, punched right into her stomach. She was a little on the overweight side. And I remember my fist plunging into the folds of her stomach. A weird sensation.

I might have knocked the wind out of her for a second. But she didn’t go down. And she wasn’t really hurt. I apologized profusely (because it was my bad, I was being an asshole). And then pedalled my ass away from there as fast as I could.

But that was the ONLY time I ever hit anybody. And I never got hit myself. Which is pretty miraculous now that I think of it. Considering how murderous the traffic is in downtown San Francisco.

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