Cutting Crew - (I Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight

The day started out strange enough. Though I can't remember the specifics, what I do remember is my dad spending the day with my brother and me. Dad often stayed at home, and let my mom do all the grocery shopping, taking us to the doctor, etc. We had a pretty stereotypical set-up when it came to raising children, which is why my dad taking us out was such a big deal.

I remember he took us to Summersville, where we ate at McDonalds. Afterwards, we got ice cream from Dairy Queen, and he took us to Summersville Lake. I can't remember what we talked about or even what we did. I just remember feeling so happy that my dad was spending time with us. My dad was always my favorite, and I'd like to think I was always his. I couldn't wait to get home, though, and tell my mom what a wonderful day I'd had.

However, when we got home, my mom was not there. I went to my grandmother's to find her, but my grandmother said she had borrowed the car to pick us up. I knew my mom knew we were with my dad, and even then, at only around nine years old, I knew this was bad news. I started calling all of my aunts and uncles asking if they had seen my mother. My dad didn't seem concerned.

I remember I was frantically worried about where she was, demanding to my father that we find her, while he smoked pot in the living room of our home with his friends. He told me not to worry, be quiet, and go to my room. Despite my dad's size (350+ lb), and generally scary appearance, he didn't scare me, and I wouldn't let this go.

Again, at nine years old, my dad said to me, "Liz, your mom cheats on me. She's probably with another guy right now."

I was devastated. I screamed at him that he was lying. She was probably hurt--in a car accident-- maybe she was in a hospital. She would never do something like that to him. She couldn't do that to us.

He responded with specific examples, "Liz, I walked in on her on the couch with Ronnie, kissing him. She said she got lost."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. I just became more hysterical. I knew my mom couldn't do this. She was my mom. She wasn't capable of doing those things. They were my parents; they were still perfect. I couldn't understand...

He said, "Liz, she's probably at a bar with another guy. You need to just go get ready for school."

After enough crying and fighting, my dad decided to prove it.

I got my brother, and we climbed into the truck. I was still convinced that she had been in some kind of accident. Driving from Camden to Craigsville, I watched over the hill looking for tire tracks. We drove towards Richwood, and as my dad turned into a bar to turn around, our headlights shined into the windshield of my grandmother's car, where my mom was engaged in a deep kiss with a man who often bought drugs from my father.

My dad was infuriated. He jumped out of the truck, and punched through the passenger side window where the man was. He started cursing, trying to fight the man, and then crying asking my mom why. My mom was drunk. The man ran out of the vehicle, and over a hill into the woods. I stood, staring and crying. My brother, only seven, was crying and punched the gutter. My dad actually dented the gutter with his fist. He kept asking my mom why? Why, Lorrie, why?

She pulled out of the parking lot, while my dad screamed something like, "Yeah, go get your fucking boyfriend."

I thought my dad would kill that man, and I felt so guilty for calling my dad a liar. I kept saying I'm sorry. I remember looking at the speedometer and seeing the needle race past the 100 mph mark, and to the 110. The song Just Died in Your Arms tonight was on the radio was on. It was years before I could hear that song without feeling like I was going to vomit.

That night, my dad took my brother and I back to my grandmother's house. She put us in the back bedroom, and told us to go to sleep. Even then, despite having the exact same experience, we were unable to comfort each other. I remember saying, "I love you, Joey" and he replied, "I love you, too, sissy." I don't think either of us slept that night--and knowing that we loved each other didn't make anything better.

My mom called and I talked to her. I can't remember why I wasn't mad. I think it's because I was so scared. She told me that she was in a safe place, and that she would talk to me soon. She said that my dad just needed to calm down.

It was shortly after that when my mom checked herself into rehab for the first time. It was the next day that my teacher, Mrs. Leslie, hugged me during a bathroom break, and said, "I heard you had a rough night, Sweetie. It will get better."

I hope she knows how much that meant.

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight

I keep looking for something I can't get
Broken hearts, they're all around me
And I don't see an easier way, to get out of this
Her diary sits by the bedside table
The curtains are closed, the cat's in the cradle
Who would have thought that a boy like me could come to this

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away
I should have walked away

Is there any just cause for feeling like this?
On the surface I'm a name on a list
I try to be discreet, but then blow it again
I've lost and found it's my final mistake
She's loving by proxy, no give and all take
'Cause I've been thrilled to fantasy, one too many times

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away
I should have walked away

It was a long hot night, she made it easy
She made it feel right
But now it's over, the moment has gone
I followed my hands to my head, I know I was wrong

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away
I should have walked away

Queen: Bicycle Race

My brother, Joe, and I always had an intense sibling rivalry, but at age nine nothing got under my skin like him daring me to race him on a bicycle.  He had dared me in front of Ricky and Scotty, our neighbors, to race him down a hill behind our house, making me look like a chicken.  I told him simply that I couldn’t race him because it wasn’t fair.  He had been practicing, and I hadn’t had a chance.  I told him that of course, I wasn’t scared.  Tomorrow, I said, tomorrow, we would race, and I would show him.

That evening he went with the neighbors to baseball practice, as he did every evening, giving me two solid hours to conquer that hill on my pink princess bike.  I told myself that I would make it down that hill, and become so confident that I would blow him away the following day.

The hill in question was just to the right of my house.  My dad had a logging business, and we had 16 acres of mountainous land.  Of course, as soon as we moved, my dad logged behind our house, giving my brother and I several trails to walk, play or ride one of our many recreational vehicles—and not to mention practically paying for itself.  Living in the heart of West Virginia, it was only appropriate that most of the roads and trails were both steep and curvy.  The path my brother wanted to race down was no different.

In my first run, I didn’t go to the point where my brother and I would start our race.  I knew better.  I didn’t even go half way.  I went about a quarter of the way up, then rode to the bottom, holding my brakes all the way down.

My second time, I decided to do the same distance, only a little easier on the brakes.  Going about a quarter up the path again, I release the brakes, and rode freely down the hill.  The wind was in my face, and the crisp spring air gave me hope that I could conquer this mountain.

I then got ambitious.  This was not going to be nearly as horrid as I had originally thought.  I could go all the way to the top of this hill.  My brother was going to eat his words.  Ricky and Scotty were going to see that this was something that I could finally be as good—if not better than my filthy brother.  As I walked my bike to the top of the hill, I could hear victory in my mind.  It would be the proudest moment of my life: the moment I was better than Joey in something that wasn’t academic.

..........................................................................................................................................

At this point in my dad’s career, things weren’t exactly how one might imagine a logging business.  He was successful.  He employed five guys, and owned several pieces of heavy machinery.  Sometimes, in between logging jobs, he would bring home bulldozers or skidders and let us play on them—or put me, Joey, Rick and Scott in the bucket and drive us around the yard.

Life was good—so good that it allowed him to pick up a second business on the side.  The second business was that of a drug dealer.  This was the business my dad was looking to expand.  He decided that the best way to do it was to begin growing our own marijuana plants at home.

My dad is the kind of person that always has people that owe him a favor.  So, when he asked a friend to get him some fertilizer, the friend delivered.

When one is growing pot, there are certain appearances that one should uphold.  In other words, we had to start a garden.  That’s what we told people when they asked what the big pile of shit was doing in our yard, anyways.  That’s right, an entire dump truck full of cow manure and compost had planted itself in our yard just down from the hill where my brother and I would be racing.

          .........................................................................................................................................................................

I stood straddled over my pink princess bike, knowing that this ride was going to be the one that changed my life.  I didn’t even need to do it—it was only going to boost my confidence.  I put my feet on the pedals, and prepared for the ride of my life…

The bike started moving too fast.  Before I knew it, I felt like I was going faster than most cars go.  I kept slamming my feet backwards, beginning to panic.  My brakes weren’t working.  The further I went, the faster the bike would go.  I knew that I was going to wreck, and didn’t know how long it would take for someone to find me.  I knew in my nine-year-old mind, this was going to be how I died.  People would blame Joey for my death.  Had he not dared me to race him down that hill, I would have never practiced, and my brakes would not have went out, and I would not have crashed into a tree—or the driveway of gravels, and died.

As I got to the bottom of the hill, I saw my salvation.  I couldn’t get my brakes to work, and if going down a hill would make me go faster, then going up a hill, might bring me go a stop.

The pile of manure looked ten feet tall.  My bike raced forward, and I thought if I slowed down enough, I could just lean it over on top and walk down the mountain of shit.   This entire time, though, my feet were planted firmly back in the brake position.

I made it down the hill, and started up the heap.  I wasn’t slowing down as I thought I would be.  Perhaps after making it up this small hill, I would still die.  I feared that if my bike didn’t slow down, I would only pick up momentum going down the other side.

Miraculously, on top of the hill, my brakes started working again.  This blessing led to an unfortunate series of events.  Having my feet in a rigor mortis state in a backwards position didn’t allow for a slow and subtle slowing.  Instead, it allowed me to flip over the handlebars of my pretty pink princess bike, landing face first, full body in the swell of shit.

I never raced my brother.

Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle


I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like


You say black I say white
You say bark I say bite
You say shark I say hey man
Jaws was never my scene
And I don't like Star Wars
You say Rolls I say Royce
You say God give me a choice
You say Lord I say Christ
I don't believe in Peter Pan
Frankenstein or Superman
All I wanna do is


Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my


Bicycle races are coming your way
So forget all your duties oh yeah
Fat bottomed girls they'll be riding today
So look out for those beauties oh yeah
On your marks get set go
Bicycle race bicycle race bicycle race


Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle
Bicycle bicycle bicycle
Bicycle race


You say coke I say caine
You say John I say Wayne
Hot dog I say cool it man
I don't wanna be the President of America
You say smile I say cheese
Cartier I say please
Income tax I say Jesus
I don't wanna be a candidate for
Vietnam or Watergate
Cause all I wanna do is


Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like