the lost years - the motorcycle incident

In the years to come a motorcycle would set him free from the trap that was his exile.
First, however, there was a story from the old neighborhood, the motorcycle.
The first time he became disconnected took place on a strange road.  It was a sidewalk for foot traffic between two neighborhoods.  the type of thing that existed in 1967 but which would later be blocked with a fence to keep the lesser neighborhood from interacting with the good one.
He walked with a friend down this strange road when a motorcycle came roaring past.  He was about to lose his one best friend to the closing of the air force base, a reaction against an out of control war in Asia.  Not thinking, because he didn't think before he acted, he let a sheet of paper go which somehow found it's mark and hit the faceplate of the rider.  How is it possible that he could have done this, that he would have been at this spot at this time and with a sheet of paper when the motorcycle came roaring past?  He was 8 or perhaps 9 years old.  but he was smart.  Smart enough to know that it was not right to toss the paper.  He was not smart enough to understand that he needed to think before he acted.  It was something bad.
Years later an older man would be smart enough to realize that it was not right to ride a motorcycle down a walking path, but that was not what the 8 year old thought.  The motorcycle rider far in the future would be him, but now it was someone else, someone bigger and everyone was bigger sometimes.  The biker circled back. The young boy stood frozen.  There was no way to run.  The rider stopped and got off of his motorcycle and he screamed.  The words seem lost in time.  You should not do that.  Are you crazy?  Are you an idiot?  That was the tone of the conversation.  Perhaps the grown up from the future could have asked, "what kind of idiot rides down a sidewalk on a motorcycle past small kids."  The boy said nothing, tears in his eyes.
He felt an intense sadness, for he had acted without thinking.  But it was only the beginning.  Later, he would see the motorcycle again.  it was down the street and it appeared that people he knew, small people like himself, for some reason looking back he envisioned a beautiful girl with them.  They were gathered around the motorcycle.  He wanted to go and see the motorcycle too, to talk with the girl, but he was ashamed.  The motorcycle rider would recognize him.  Years in the future an older person would tell him, "go, apologize.  tell him you were not thinking.  he may not forgive you, but he may forgive you."  But that older person was not around.
Next the coward assailant and the lost tooth