Dear Editor,

I saw a young fellow on a motorbike — actually, I heard him first because it was one of those off-road bikes with not much of a muffler. He popped a wheelie from down the hill beyond my view and held it for at least 100 feet before disappearing over the hill, front wheel still in the air. I thought, “That would be an impressive feat, were it done on an action movie set, or a track set aside for showing off horsepower and daring.” But where I saw it was not a good location. It’s a busy intersection of two streets, commonly occupied by elderly people on mobility scooters, bicyclists, kids and dogs playing in the yard, joggers and dog walkers and it’s an ambulance route.

That’s in addition to the regular comings and goings of hospital, residential and light industrial traffic, trucks and farm equipment using Clarendon Street as a Shawville bypass. There are so many ways a slight miscalculation on the motorcyclist’s part and the Court of Instant Karma would find him guilty of breaching the law of gravity. Somebody could get hurt.

If it’s the stunt driver who gets hurt, it’s pop your wheelie and take your chances; but if anyone else, while minding their business and keeping both feet and all their wheels on the ground should get hurt, that would be injustice. I’ve seen probably the same guy (he goes by too fast to identify) do the same stunt more than once. There’s just too much risk, for too little glory, to do your stunt driving there. Go to where the crowds cheer loudly, and make your parents proud for having bought you a dangerous toy.

I’m reminded of a scene from years ago; a dead still summer evening and I was sitting on the bench at the pool room that used to be where Kojak’s Restaurant is now. My friend Phillip Van Horne was night manager of the pool room. No one was inside playing. The only action in town was kids showing off on their bicycles, on the otherwise empty Main Street. One kid, Jimmy, was amazingly agile and skilled. With no shirt, no shoes, no helmet, riding a little bike he’d put together from pieces, he could do stunts the other kids didn’t dare. He did it with courage and trust in his abilities and willingness to accept the consequences. He still makes his living with that attitude today. Thing is, he did that with pedal power — personal energy — and it was awesome to witness. No one was in danger of being hurt, except those who might attempt a stunt beyond their means. It was their choice. That night, nobody got hurt, and everyone was thrilled.

I once hiked to the top of the Pyramid of the Pontiac, the rock heap at the former Hilton Mine. From that high vantage point, we could look down on a smaller hill, normally hidden from view. It was the repository for finer mine tailings. It was flat at the top and had a large, unnaturally blue-green pond. People on motorbikes were zooming around and it looked like a certain kind of fun. Maybe a place such as that could be opened up for those who like to rev up and take risks. But let’s not have it on the busy streets alive with fast-moving traffic and slow-moving innocent pedestrians.

Robert Wills,

Shawville/Thorne, Que.