The Fruits of Summer

A journey like no other. That is what we called it. Of course, it wasn’t a tenth as far as we made it out to be. John picked me up after dinner as planned. He was always ready for an adventure on a hot summer afternoon, as was I. We hopped on our bikes and rode into the wind, the sweat instantly dripping down our faces from the hot August sun. Block after block we rode on, peddling as hard as we could so that the time until the exciting part of our journey was closer upon us. The traffic today made us scratch our heads. In such heat, a person tended to stay home, but today was different and we guessed that everyone else was on an expedition of his or her own. As we approached the side of the mountain from the south side, we could see the path that scurried up the side and would eventually take us to our final destination. John slammed on his brakes throwing a wall of dirt towards the sky, only landing after it had made it over the ditch. I, of course, not wanting to be outdone, picked up speed before applying my own brakes, hoping to top what I thought of as Johnny’s spectacular feat. I won’t say that I failed horribly.
Johnny lagged behind as I started my way up the side of the mountain on the narrow path. After so many years, I would think the path would be well worn and wide, but I guess people stuck to the path and didn’t venture off of it by even an inch. This made for tricky navigation, but the prize at the end was well worth it. The up and down of the path didn’t phase me in the least, the summer of biking since school let out left my lungs full and ready for hard expansion. I took a chance at turning around to see if John was still behind me. He was, and close, but the glance threw me off the track and I started heading downhill. A few sharp maneuvers around some vegetation and rocks and I was again on my way. Johnny had passed me because of my harebrained attempt to check on my friend, and this meant that he would find the treasure first if I couldn’t find a way to distract him and get in front.
I could sense the tension between the two of us, even though the distance between us was increasing by the minute. Johnny was fiercely competitive and was a very poor loser. I, on the other hand, didn’t mind losing as long as I tried my best and finished what I was out to accomplish. This didn’t mean I was going to wuss out and let him win though. I pumped hard on those plastic peddles as we neared our destination, seeing the prize drove me even harder. Johnny checked over his shoulder to see how close I was and nearly lost the trail himself, his only saving grace being that the trail had widened somewhat. This meant that I was on his tail and he was going to have to fight hard to be the first to our reward. That thought pushed me and I started to inch past John as we were less than a minute away. His height and mass pushed him ahead by a fair margin as he doubled his efforts and we hit the final descent. Unfortunately, I was left eating the dust his big knobby tires kicked up.
My efforts, not surprisingly, were not in vain, as the reward was not just Johnny’s, but both his and mine. The journey that had started no less than thirty minutes ago had come to an end with Johnny and I both jumping our bikes off of the five-foot cliff into the lake at the end of the path. Our prize, which we enjoyed almost every day that summer, was as no other we could experience at eight years old. We were elated with such a simple thing and couldn’t imagine anything that could make us happier. Our journey home was always filled with bragging of who would be first to the prize on our next adventure.