Michael Allen sent this to me over the email and I figured I would share it with the rest of you:

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT JUST F***ING HAPPENED"

I caught myself saying that a lot the past week. Here’s the story....

First off, you have to realize the week I've had. Rain, rain, rain all week. Then the two most gorgeous days come out of nowhere, and as my s**tluck would have it, I'm too sick to leave my f***ing bed. On one of these rainy days, my friend Gabe Martinez, busts into my dorm and says "Dude, someone broke my bike lock while I was in class and took my bike!"

And that’s when I said it for the first time this week. "I can't believe that just f***ing happened".

On another one of these rainy days, three-fourths of the Aster St. "Young Guns" house (T.J. Gills, Brandon Sanford, and Cody Miller all went. David Gamble's knee is swollen bigger than his thigh, and he was at work so he didn't come) decide to go to Buck Nutty's skate ranch in Lafayette, and yours truly took the ride as well. On the way there we hear a loud banging coming from the roof, and immediately everyone panics, because we think the either Cody Miller's bike or my bike is now road trash. So we pull over and asses the situation. And come to find out, the front bolt that was holding my bike came loose and only the back strap was holding my bike to the roof of the car. Keep in mind that we were going about 80 mph when this happened so my bike would have, and probably should have been done for. After securing the bike and getting back on the road, I found myself saying "I can't believe that just f***ing happened" once again.

So, there it was, Saturday night and i found myself once again on Aster St. As I'm getting murdered in Guitar Hero by David Gamble gets a call from some friends, Danny and Darrin, that are in town. So the decision is made to go to New Orleans, meet up with these dudes from Vegas, ride Fastlane Skatepark, and then spend the rest of the night out on the town. Well, we load the bikes up onto David’s bike rack and begin our journey.

Sometime down the road, David turns down the music and asks, “Dude, do you hear that?”
I answer “Yeah man, are you running over the reflectors on the road?”
“Naw man, I think I’m driving pretty straight.”
“Well, Louisiana roads are pretty s**tty, I think that’s it.”

So we go back to rocking out and driving like usual. Not even stopping even for an instant that something may be wrong. BIG MISTAKE.

We arrive at the skate park and I hop out of the car, all psyched up and ready to shred. As I walk around to the back of the car, I see David’s bike, barely hanging on the rack. This is when I found myself saying it in the third situation this week: "I can't believe that just f***ing happened.”

My bike was gone. Nothing left of it but a memory. I don’t care what anyone said about my bike, after riding bikes that didn’t fit me and only half way worked for 5 years, losing that bike was nothing short of heart breaking.

David was still too hurt to ride, so he let me cruise around on his bike for a whole, but it just wasn’t the same. Nothing against David’s bike, it is f***ing D-I-A-L-E-D, but not even riding could make me feel better at this point.

After warming up, I figured I would have to get used to riding a smaller bike since was going to be using hand-me-downs for a good while. So I decided to try one of the tricks that hates me…the tailwhip. The first few came around alright, so I decided to go a bit faster and really commit to it. HORRIBLE IDEA. I went up and flailed in the air like a duck until I came down right on the bike.

“F***! I can't believe that just f***ing happened!" was all I could say for the next five minuets. So now I don’t have a bike, and I’m so beat up I don’t even want to try to ride anyone else’s.

I wake up to a text message from Gabe. I ignored it, I was tired and depressed. I didn’t want to move. It was a completely gorgeous day outside, a perfect day to ride. And I couldn’t stand it. About half an hour later Gabe busts into my dorm and says “Get up, were going look for your bike.”
“Dude, there’s no way were going to find it. What we need to do is check the news and see if someone hit a bike last night and died.”
After about ten more minuets of prodding I finally get up and we head to New Orleans.
The drive to Fastlane Skatepark takes about an hour and fifteen minuets. And every five minuets I would see something blue in the grass and have a flutter of hope, only to realize that it’s just some trash on the side of the road.

All hope is lost when we arrive at the skate park with no luck in finding even a shard of my bicycle. Gabe and I hang out at the park for a while, shooting the s**t with G-rad, Eric, Ron, and Thomas. All the while I'm trying to keep this façade of indifference, while on the inside I almost want to cry because they all are at the skate park with their bikes, can ride, and they aren’t, while I'm sitting here with no bike. Then we decide it’s about time to pack it in. So we head to his house then make the ride back home. As I'm reading an issue of Dig that Gabe had lying around, Gabe yells at the top of his lungs “Dude! Look, there’s your bike!”
Quite a few things are running through my head after I comprehend what he is saying.

Here they are in order.
1. F***ING SWEET.
2. It can’t be there because
a. Were on a f***ing bridge
b. And were going the opposite direction we were going when it dropped.
3. I can’t believe Gabe would f*** with me like that, I don’t think I ever want to
talk to this mother f***er again.

Even though I thought he was f***ing with me I looked to where he was pointing and was completely surprised. My bike was not on the side of the road, but in the back of some guys truck!

I have to pause and make it clear how incredibly nuts this is. The bike fell off of the car some where between 9 and 10 p.m. Saturday night while we were traveling east on I-10 and here it is3 p.m. the next day, and there’s my bike on the back of some redneck’s truck as were traveling west…..F***ING NUTSO!!!

Well, needless to say as soon as I saw it in his truck I’m half way out of the window, flagging him down, trying to yell over the 70 m.p.h. wind. As were pulling over, 456786787654678 things are running through my mind. The most pertinent one being that I hope this guy didn’t hit this thing in the middle of the night and was waiting for the motherf***er who dropped it to come along so he could beat the living s**t out of them.

The conversation between him and I went something like this:
Me: “Oh my God, I can’t believe you found my bike!”
Guy: “Yeah, I found it on the side of the road this morning, I was just going to give it away.”
Me: “Well thank you so much for giving it back to me. It fell off the back of the car last night and I thought it was gone forever.”
Guy: “Yeah man, that’s an ugly ass bike….”
Me: “It gets the job done”

When we get back into the car, after loading the bike in, I actually caught myself looking back at it to make sure all of this actually happened. After the initial shock wore off I turned to Gabe and said, "I can't believe that just f***ing happened.”

So there you have it. Next time you are complaining about life, think about poor old Mike (and all the other people out there who have it waaaayyyyy worse than that).