Life in the Ville by Jimmy Del Ponte

When we were growing up in the Somerville of the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s we were fearless. We left the house at nine and didn’t come home until it was dark. Then we would go out all night. We did a lot of foolish things back then, both dangerous and very risky. None was more dangerous than hopping freight cars. It always seemed like we were tempting fate.

Around 1984, a lot of my friends had motorcycles. I didn’t have one. A friend of mine was selling a Honda 305 and I was interested, even though I had no license or learners permit or anything. Actually, I have had never driven a motorcycle in my life until the day that I took it to give it a test drive with my friends.

There were five of us. I taught myself how to go through the gears along with a little grinding, but soon I was shifting the right way and keeping up with their Harleys. Now remember I had no learners permit and no license and I was still getting used to the bike as we headed through Ball Square, on our way to Breakheart Reservation.

When we were leaving, I was on Kidder Avenue and I was about to cross College Ave. Everyone stopped but me. The bike went across College Ave. without me on it. I went and picked it up and caught up with the boys. I was lucky I didn’t get hurt.

I used to get nervous when I took my bike on the street, thinking my father would catch me, and that was the same feeling I had riding the motorcycle, especially every time we went by cops.

I was doing pretty good keeping up with the Harleys. I was good at riding the bike, it was just stopping that was giving me a hard time. I actually fell off the bike five more times before we reached Breakheart Reservation and rode around inside there.

Funny, but I haven’t had the urge to get on a motorcycle since then. We were either foolishly lucky or just plain foolish. It was a good time.

Today, I may get lucky flicking through the channels to find a show to watch but I try not to take silly chances.