Everybody has a dream or vision of doing something.  Whether that dream is big or small, it often motivates us to make an attempt at making the dream come true.  The dream often starts at an early age.  Motivated by something you saw or heard you step out and try to conquer that dream. But what happens when that dream doesn't come true?  What affect does it have on you when you fail at what you dreamed?  Does that dream die or does it stay buried in your heart until someone or something reawakens it?  What really happens to an unrealized dream?

This is the story of one of my dreams.  Not just any dream, but the first dream I put an effort towards making a reality.  A dream that went unrealized.  A dream that may not go unrealized anymore.

I was a child of the 80's.  Like most kids of this era, movies and TV had a profound affect on me.  Seeing Rocky at 5 years old had such an effect that I ended up becoming a professional boxer in adulthood.  Time won't permit me to talk about the countless characters (real and fictional) made me believe I could achieve a dream.  And at the age of 10 I saw a movie that inspired me to try something.  It was the first time in my life that I saw something and said "I'm gonna do that."

It was the summer of 1987.  I was at a birthday party/sleepover for my cousin.  There were a lot of kids their.  Most of them I don't remember.  In fact the only people I so recall were my cousin (the birthday boy), my other cousin, and my little brother.  The agenda was simple: eat junk food and watch movies all night.  And being that this was my cousins house there was a good chance that the movie would have some female nudity in it.  We weren't allowed to watch that at our house.  They also weren't allowed but the rule wasn't incredibly enforced over there as my uncle seemed to pick movies with massive amounts of nudity and forget that he was watching the movies with children in the room.  He'd make vain attempts at stopping us.  "Cover your eyes" he'd yell.  Needless to say it didn't work.  I'd simply place both hands over my eyes and keep my fingers open so I could still see the screen.  I loved female nudity when I was a kid... I love female nudity now.  But getting back to the story, we all sat down in our PJ's to watch the movies.  I don't recall whether or not we watched any other movie that night.  I only remember the one that hooked me from the very first image... a man flying though the clear blue sky on a bicycle.

Every child of the 80's remembers the movie RAD.  I don't care if you were black, white, Latino, or Asian.  Everybody knew that movie.  It transcended race, even though there was almost nare any blacks, Latinos, or Asians in it.  What caught you were these guys doing these amazing stunts on BMX bikes.  Almost every kid had a BMX  in the 80's.  It was damn near a rule.  Even the skateboarders had BMX's.  I had mine.  A cheap ass black Huffy that had been sitting in the storage shed for months. I had almost totally forgotten about that bike until I saw RAD.  RAD turned that cheap ass bike into my new best friend.  We watched to movie, Cru Jones wins the race, the end.  Maybe the end for everybody else.  But for me something woke up inside of me.  I was entering a new phase.  Rocky made me wanna box, but that was virtually impossible as their were no boxing gyms in our town or any near town.  Plus my mother would never have let me box as a child.  "Ain't nobody hittin'my baby" I could hear her say.  But this was different.  I didn't have a boxing gym but I had a BMX.  And as the credits rolled at the end of the movie I said to myself "I'm doing that".

Here's where the story gets interesting.  First, let's discuss some of the obstacles.  I indeed had a bike.  But it was an old cheap rusted black Huffy from K-Mart.  The bikes in the movie were shiny chrome factory made bikes that you could only get at Bike shops.  Their bikes looked like finely crafted machines, my bike resembled a starving Ethiopian child on a diet. Also their bikes were expensive.  And expensive wasn't in our vocabulary.  Poverty was the common thread of everyone in my neighborhood.  And lastly, I was a poor black kid interested in a sport that seemed to cater to rich white kids.  I loved the movie RAD but it was light on ethnicity in it.  I counted two black people.  A brother outside the dance and a sista helping make shirts.  Their was one Asian lady who got jacked for a handful of popcorn at the climactic race, and a handful of Latino riders.  But for the most part, it was sheer white.  Mayberry RFD white.

But despite my ethnicity, financial status, and lack of a credible bike I wasn't gonna let nothing was stopping me from realizing this dream.  Not soon after seeing the movie, I was on my front porch with my rusted black bike and micellaneous parts from other discarded bicycles.  I don't recall ever using tools before this point.  But when it came to that bike, I turned into a surgeon with a wrench.  I fixed that old rusted bike up the best I could and stood back to take a look... It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.  And I couldn't wait to get on it and start jumping off of things.  I built a ramp from an old piece plywood propped over two buckets.  I had no helmet or protective gear but I jumped that ramp without a care in the world.  I do recall having a bad spill where I flew over the handle bars and skidded chest first across rocks and dirt.  My hands were cut open, blood seeping from them.  Didn't stop me at all.  I mereley got up, rinsed off my hands, and got back to jumping.  This was the beginning.  I gettin' my Cru Jones on.  And there was one small piece of fortune.  The neighborhood I resided in, East Childs Avenue on the South Side of Merced was right next to the fairgrounds which housed the local BMX track.  This was meant to be... or so I thought.

In the early days before I'd seen RAD I recall going past the track while races occured.  I noticed it of course, but didn't pay it as much mind.  But now it was all I could think about.  I could see the track from the window of the bedroom my two little brothers shared.  And I promised that the next time they'd hold a race there I'd be in it. I would soon learn that day would never come.  Regardless, I couldn't wait to experience it.  In fact had to figure out a way to somehow get on the track and test my skills.  One funny thing about an ambition is you lose all sight of rules, regulations, and laws.  Somehow my cousin and I snuck into the fairgrounds and got on the track.  We were trespassing but it didn't even cross my mind at the time.  It was my dream, it was my neighborhood, and therefore my track.  How dare you even think of standing in the way.  I remember being on the hill at the starting gate.  We only had my rusty black Huffy so we took turns.  We couldn't race but decided to count and see who went the fastest.  No stopwatch, just plain old 'one mississippi, two mississippi. I went first of course.  I don't have a realistic idea of how I did.  I probably was terrible by pro BMX standards.  But in my mind, I was the greatest rider ever.  Those hills were gigantic but they were small compared to my sheer 10 year old bravado and will.  In hindsight I'm surprised no adult got on our case for doing something so dangerous.  Especially without a helmets or protective gear.  God was watching over me then.  He still does now, but I wasn't aware of it at ten.  I thought it was my raw talent and skill that kept me safe.  I may have fell once or twice that day, but it didn't deter me from doing it at all. I was just gettin' my Cru Jones on!

The next few months I got serious about it and started to put all the pieces together.  First, I got a helmet.  I made my first attempts without a helmet and protective gear, but I was a serious BMXer and decided to invest my hard begged money in getting a helmet.  Not that I was really all that concerned about safety.  I got it because Cru Jones had one in the movie.  I also started wearing gloves as I rode.  Not actual BMX gloves, but my fathers worn out construction work gloves.  I also started stocking up on all the BMX magazines.  I became more familiar with the sport and the riders.  Martin Aparijo was my favorite rider, and GT was my favorite brand.  I wanted a GT so bad that I'd walk down to the local bike shop every Saturday and just stare at the GT Performer on display.  They had other assorted brands also, but I wasn't interested in Haro, Mongoose, Redline, or any of the others back then.  GT all day.  I'm shocked the store owner never kicked me out.  He probably didn't mind because all I was doing was staring.  But he had to think I was strange.  Staring at that bike was a revelation in two ways.  One, it was the first time I saw something in real life that I'd only seen in a movie or magazine.  It was the equivalent of watching Star Wars all your life and then standing right next to a real life Millenium Falcon.  The second part of the revelation was the price.  I knew these bikes were expensive, but up until then I didn't know how expensive.  The GT Performer was $200 dollars.  And back in 1987 $200 was hard to come by... $200 is hard to come by even today.  God bless my parents.  My stepfather worked hard to put food on the table and clothes on our back.  He didn't have the type of job were he could save $200 on a bike we didn't get allowances. My parents philosophy was "Allowance?  I'm allowing you to live in my house.  If you want some money you're allowed to get a job."

I wondered if I could get a job.  A 10 year old black kid wasn't the ideal employee for most businesses in Merced at the time.  They often kicked us out of liquor stores with thoughts that product would come up missing.  But I was willing to work.  I asked my mom if I could get a paper route.  After all, Cru Jones had one in the movie.  But she said no.  Perhaps thinking "I ain't gettin' up at 6am to wake this nigga up so can he just go back to sleep." I didn't have many options.  I considered calling my father in L.A. to see if he'd get me a BMX.  But for some reason I didn't see that happening.  In a moment of desparation I even thought to talk to my cousin who sold drugs.  But if he would've gotten me the bike I would've only enjoyed it on the ride home.  Cause by the time my mother would've found out I asked him to get me a BMX even that bike wouldn't have been fast enough for a getaway.  I could offer to do work around the house, but those where already my chores.  And so I had my first experience with an adversary that would haunt me even to this present day: poverty.

Nevertheless, I still had my bike.  My old rusty black Huffy that was getting older and more beat up.  I modified it to make it look more like a top notch BMX.  The rare times I managed to get my hands on some money I'd go to the local Pep Boys or K-Mart and buy parts.  A new tire here, a new seat there.  I worked on that bike damn near every weekend.  I became an expert at fixing bikes.  I could fix any part of a bike With the exception of the bike chain.  That was my achilles hill.  I just could never figure that part out.  But I managed to get my bike working when I needed to.  That was my life back then.  Go to school, ride my BMX, watch RAD, go to sleep.  And yet no one seemed to take notice.  I had a heartfelt desire to race, but didn't seem to find support from anyone.  The whole world seemed like it was against my dream.  Even the BMX track seemed to neglect me.  Weekend after weekend past and with no hint of a race.  I couldn't figure out why.

In January of 1988 I turned 11.  The dream was still very much alive.  I noticed a few other guys had gotten into BMXing.  They were a few years older than me and therefore ignored me.  I was the just the weird 11 year old black kid with the helmet and rusty black Huffy.  Also my parents got wind of my excursions over the fence onto the BMX track.  The risk was too dangerous without adult supervision.  Also my old rusty black bike started to show signs of it's cheapness.  It wasn't built to withstand the rigors of all those stunts.  I managed to find my older brothers old chrome Murray BMX buried deep in the storage house.  It was better quality but oversized.  It was a BMX cruiser which had 24 inch wheels, not the standard 20 inch that most competition BMX's had.  My rusted black bike on had 16 inch tires and I was growing bigger by the minute.  My black bike was too small, my brothers was too big.  I did all I could to modify that big bike, but it never met the specifications. I had to figure out a way to get a bike and then recalled another tidbit of information from the movie... sponsoring.

All the pro BMXers had factory sponsors who would supply their bikes and pay their expenses in exchange for the rider sponsoring their product.  As I read up on the riders I noticed that many of them rode for their local bike shops when they first started out.  Eureka!  That was the answer all along.  "I'll simply get a local shop to sponsor me and supply me one of their bikes.  After I win a few races the factories will come knocking on my door for my services."  Simple plan.  But again this was 1988 when their weren't that many famous black BMXers.  So convincing a white bike shop owner to invest in an 11 year old black kid who hadn't had a single race was a shot in the dark.  But I was willing to take that shot.  We only had two bike shops in Merced.  I stop first at my favorite.  The one I spent many Saturdays staring at the GT performer on display.  It must've been a shock when I asked to owner a question.  After a year spent walking in and out of his store this was gonna be our first conversation.  "Do you guys sponsor BMX racers?"  I was never one to beat around the bush.  He looked at me for a second and shook his head.  "We did in the past, but we don't anymore."  First blow.  At least the guy was nice about it.  I walked out of the store disappointed but not hopeless.  The other shop was down the street.  It wasn't my first choice but I was willing to ride for them.  I walked in and took a few minutes to browse.  After the first rejection I was a bit apprehensive.  Maybe I had asked the wrong way at the other shop.  It took me a few minutes to muster up the courage, but I finally asked.  "Do you guys sponsor BMX racer?"  Just like the last shop the owner looked at me for a second.  I put on my best kind face.  "No, we don't do that anymore."  Damn!  Just like that my plan for sponsoring fell through.  I browsed a little longer and left.  I started heading home.  Let down by the events of that day.  "Will I ever get a chance to race" I thought.  I had no idea that I was about to come as close to it as I ever would.

As I rolled down 11th street returning from my sponsoring campaign I noticed activity at the BMX track.  There were a group of adults there and a van with BMX regalia on it.  I hurried over to see what all the commotion was about.  A 30 something year old white guy had info on some upcoming races.  Many neighborhood kids surrounded him asking questions.  He handed out flyers with all the info.  I can't recall what I asked him but I grabbed one of the flyers and went home.  "Finally" I thought to myself.  "This is it.  This is what I've been waiting for."  I didn't have a sponsor or a good bike but the flyer put all obstacles out of my mind.  I hadn't seen a race at the track in years.  But if it was returning I was gonna be a part of it somehow.  And maybe now my parents will know how serious I am.  I went home excited about my racing future.  I didn't realize that flyer would be the last ray of sunshine in my childhood quest.

The race never took place.  I have no clue of what trasnpired to prevent it from happening but the day I got the flyer was the last time I saw any activity at the track.  Even the older kids stopped sneaking in to use the track.  The 90's were quickly approaching and the BMX phenomenon had started to wane in popularity.  Other sports started to interest me also.  It started with city league basketball, then track, and finally football.  Boxing was still a long way off due to a lack of boxing gyms in Merced.  I still had a love for BMXing but without a peer to share your enthusiasm it seemed useless.  I did in fact eventually get a bike. With all the practices I had to attend and my parents desire to save money on gas we went down to K-Mart to pick out a bike for me.  I saw a few decent looking BMX's, not GT's but good quality.  I was estatic at finally being able to at least get a bike I'd like.  I made my choice on one of the chrome BMX's but it was quickly vetoed.  "You're in Junior High now.  You need a more grown up bike" they said.  I was devastated.  All this time I've waited to be able to get a decent BMX and now I have to get a so called 'grown up' bike.  They chose a mountain bike for me.  I accepted it and rode it of course but I would've much preferred a BMX.  I grew to dislike mountain bikes.  They tend to be heavy and difficult to jump on.  But of course they're not built for jumping.  I've had one or two over the years but I'm not a fan of them.  I hate them for the sheer fact that they represent the first nail in the coffin of my BMX dream.

I moved on to other dreams.  At the beginning of Junior High I started playing Pop Warner football.  A few of my teammates had BMX's which shot my parents theory of 'grown up bikes' to pieces.  I remember riding one of my teammates bikes and hitting a few tricks.  Man, that felt good.  But it was the last time I recall being on a BMX as a kid.  As the popularity of the sport waned I saw less and less BMX action. I still would watch RAD every once in a while but not nearly as much as I did as a kid.  I do recall a Junior High school assembly were a few BMXers came and did some tricks for us. I enjoyed watching but it had started to become bittersweet.  "That should be me out there" I thought.  I went on to star in football, basketball, and track.  It amazed me that once I started playing sporst everyone else knew, I got tons of support from my family.  BMXing started to become a faded memory.  The final nail in the coffin happened the early 90's.  I walked my regular route home past the fair grounds and saw that the BMX track was gone.  The hills had been flattened out and covered by cement.  It was just a simple parking lot now.  I stood there for a moment.  "How could they do this" I thought.  I walked on but it did bring a sadness to my heart.  My childhood dream was over.  Almost as if it never happened.

As I got older, I accepted the fact that it didn't happen for me.  BMXing went out of fad in the 90's and there wasn't a lot of media attention on it.  I went through High School, then to college, and on to other things.  Life had many ups and downs, particularly my mother passing away in 1998.  But I've come to understand that it's the cycle of life.  Eventually, I stopped thinking about BMXing.  It was a silly childhood dream.  Something that wasn't as important as I once thought it was. That's what I told myself.  But it's funny how something can reawaken inside of you.

I was home for a visit sometime in  the early 2000's.  I was a college graduate pursuing a career in film and also boxing at the time.  I walked through my childhood home and reminisced about the past.  I entered the room my two litte brothers once shared and took a gander out the window.  What I saw stopped me in my tracks.  Someone had built a new BMX track across the street from where the old once stood.  It was a longer track with bigger jumps.  Not only had it been built, they were holding races that day.  I watched in amazement as I saw young boys jump off the hills and hit those turns.  Part of me was happy that BMXing had come back to Merced, but most of me was pissed.  "Those rotten muthafuckaz" I thought to myself.  I let my anger go and just shook it off. But there was a part of me that regreted never even having one race.  But time waits for no one.  You can't relive the past... or so I thought.

A little over a year ago I was at home visiting family for the holidays.  I'd been retired from boxing for a few years and was now a former athlete.  Problem with being a former athlete is retaining an athletes appetite.  I eat as much as I did when I was active but I rarely workout.  I discovered that all my life I've trained hard in preparation for something.  Whether it was a game, a fight, or a race their was always some overall goal motivating me.  I had a desire to workout but no motivating factor.  So as I sat down drinking Egg Nog, destroying my physique, and browsing through Youtube I caught a video a BMX workout.  The men in the video were in their 30's, 40's, and 50's.  Some had participated in the sport in their youth, some had just discovered it.  "Maybe this what I've been waiting for" I thought.  "Maybe this could motivate me".  I browsed through other BMX videos.  A renewed interest in the sport hit me.  And then the topper.  There are races for guys my age.  From those who did it in their youth to those who are brand new to the sport.  I'm in my own category.  A guy who wanted it badly but never got a chance to get on the track and race.  And now I have a challenge. After 35 years can the little black kid from Childs Avenue finally get his Cru Jones on?