When I was nine years old, I won a bicycle at our church bazaar. I say I won it, but all I had done was place a coin on a number, and when the big wheel stopped on that very number, I had a brand new bike. It was blue, with 20-inch tires, a light in front, and a push-button horn built into the chassis between the seat and handlebars. I remember the details clearly because that bike was the last thing I ever won. And because I almost got killed on it.
The streets in our neighborhood ran slightly downhill. It would be barely noticeable now, but to a little boy on a big bike with pedal brakes, it seemed steep. I was going too fast and no matter how hard I tried to press on the pedals I continued to race downhill toward the cross street. At some point I knew I wasn’t going to stop. High hedges on both corners blocked my view, and if a car were going by in either direction I would get hit. We didn’t wear helmets back then; I don’t know if they even existed. I remember imagining myself being struck from the right side, flying through the air, and cracking my head open on the sidewalk. The last thing I saw was a big red stop sign as I hurtled past it.
As you may have guessed, I wasn’t killed that day. The bike went over the curb, into the intersection, across the street, and up the other curb. There had been an unusual break in the traffic, caused no doubt by God’s infinite love for new bicycles. I also believed He was sending me a message, but what could it be? I hadn’t gone to Confession the previous week. I had told my little sister to shut up, and had several bad thoughts about one of our neighbors. What if I had been hit by a car and killed? Would I have gone straight to Hell? Now it was my mind that was racing like never before. Something significant had just happened, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. I got off the bike and walked it home, and never told anyone about the incident.
Maybe God was trying to tell me that sometimes it was safe to take a risk, that possible danger doesn’t mean assured injury or death, and that unlikely victory doesn’t necessarily mean defeat. Maybe he wanted me to be brave.
TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS LATER. I was driving alone to Cape May, New Jersey, to spend a couple of nights at a bed & breakfast. As I neared the exit for Atlantic City, it occurred to me that I’d never even been inside a casino. My gambling career had waned since the church bazaar, the hot streak beginning and ending with the new bike. I had entered the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, probably a dozen times, carefully affixing the proper stickers and inserting my entry into the Yes envelope; I even mailed it by the Early Bird deadline, which guaranteed me a chance to win an extra hundred thousand dollars. I bought raffle tickets from anyone who asked, lured by the possibility of a dream vacation or hundreds of other great prizes. I entered contests that required me to roll something up or scratch something off or peel something away. Always the message was the same: Sorry. Try again.
I did try again. Over and over. If the result varied, it was in the wording. Sometimes it said, Not a winner.
So it was with resigned pessimism that I turned off the exit that day and headed for the casinos in Atlantic City. I parked the car at Harrah’s, pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet, said my final goodbyes to the money, and went inside. I thought it was somehow worth twenty dollars for the experience.
The slot machines called to me, maybe because they seemed private. I could lose my money and no one would have to know. After exchanging the bill for a handful of silver dollars, I watched a few other gamblers for a while. One lady had her leg up on a stool and was playing two machines at once. Then I chose my machine, inserted a dollar, and pulled the handle. I’d noticed the lady had been putting in more than one coin at a time. I tried that, and was rewarded; the machine kicked out a bunch of silver dollars. Then I saw that you could put in up to three coins. It seemed crazy, but again, the machine paid out. It was rewarding my courage, telling me that it was safe to take a risk. Soon I was playing three dollars on every pull. And I was winning more than I was losing. I had figured out the system. You had to take a chance. I did just that, and the new message was clear: Congratulations! Try again!
But I knew that if I continued to try again, sooner or later I’d lose. I cashed in the mound of coins and walked back to my car with forty-six dollars.
The following year, I got married. That summer my wife and I were driving through New Jersey on our way to Georgia. As we neared Atlantic City, I asked Maria if she’d ever been to a casino. She said she had, and that she liked the slot machines. I told her the story about my big win and how I’d discovered the secret.
“You played the dollar machines?” she asked.
“Yes. Why? What about you?”
“I always play the nickel machines.”
“Nickel?” I was incredulous. “Nickel? Does the government even produce nickels anymore? I thought they melted them all down to make bicycle helmets.”
I told Maria that I could win enough money to pay for our next motel room. She seemed hesitant, but I remained confident.
“Trust me,” I said. “I know what to do. The machine rewards courage. The more you put in, the more you win.” A billboard for Harrah’s advertised the hundreds of millions of dollars the casino had paid out in winnings. Included in that sum, I told her, was forty-six big ones that I’d walked away with. “Believe me, this will not take long.”
And I was right. After taking two fifties from my wallet and exchanging them for a hundred silver dollars, I picked out a machine and began to insert the coins, three at a time. Maria tried to discourage me, sputtering something about nickels again. I shushed her with a manly assurance.
“Just watch,” I said.
Five minutes later, the hundred silver dollars were gone. Well, not gone, exactly. I knew where they were. The slot machine had devoured them, not even bothering to keep me interested with an occasional winner. It was as though a vacuum cleaner hose had emerged from the machine and sucked the coins right out of my hand. Five minutes. A hundred dollars. Gone.
“That’s twenty dollars a minute,” I said, thinking that maybe I could impress her with my math skills. “A dollar every three seconds.” Maria wasn’t listening. She had already headed for the door. On the way out, we passed the nickel slot machines, which she gestured toward with her thumb as she walked. But I had lost interest. My gambling career, short-lived as it was, ended right where it had begun.
SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER. I’m driving our son, Shaun, to high school. On the way, there’s a road that crosses the one we’re on. It’s a long road, this other one, with stop signs. We have the right of way. As we approach the place where the roads cross, we head down a steep hill. There have been many accidents at this intersection, because drivers unfamiliar with the other road sometimes don’t notice the stop signs. High hedges on both corners block my vision, so I can’t tell if an inattentive driver may be crossing my path just ahead. I press hard on the brakes, slowing to a crawl.
As we pass through the intersection, I glance right and left one more time. I’ve explained to Shaun why I do this, how you never know. “It’s like gambling, I say. Every time you get behind the wheel, it’s like you’re pulling the handle on a slot machine.” A hundred dollars in five minutes, that’s one thing. Throwing away some money on raffle tickets, not something to dwell on… I’m not saying this last part out loud, but thinking it, because he isn’t listening anyway. What I’m thinking is that even though the bike at the church bazaar was a big win for a little boy, I’ve had much bigger ones since then. No, not the car. True, it has sixteen-inch wheels, lights in front and back, and a horn right there on the steering wheel, as well as a CD player and fold-down rear seats. But I’m talking about the people who ride with me in that car. My wife, our kids, our grandson. There are things I’m just not willing to gamble with, and life doesn’t always give us a chance to try again.
I’ve won all the prizes I’ll ever need. I hope you have, too.
Jac
November 25, 2010
You told me to shut up??
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bronxboy55
November 26, 2010
Maybe not in so many words. Or maybe it was more words. Anyway, I went to Confession and the priest forgave me. So there.
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Betty Londergan
November 25, 2010
Lovely, lovely — and from someone who’s never EVER won any prize (except I did win thousands of dollars for friends of mine when I was rolling the dice at craps one crazy night in Vegas) — I can appreciate the sentiment of wanting to be an officially designated Winner. But we’ve already won everything worth having … and that’s the Thanksgiving truth!
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bronxboy55
November 26, 2010
Betty, you’ve helped so many people with your wonderful books and amazing blog. I can’t think of a better prize.
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Julia
November 25, 2010
Very moving and, of course, well written. I love the image of nine-year-old you on your big-tired bike, riding too fast. Your experience with winning, and with gambling, is like my own. The best thing I “won” was a black leather jacket from Pepsi, after drinking so much Pepsi for those “Pepsi Stuff” points that we probably corroded our insides and spent thousands of dollars on soda we didn’t need in the first place. As we were going round the table today saying what we were thankful for, the most commonly named ones were family and friends. No surprise there.
And I’m glad you didn’t die going down your hill. Maybe God WAS watching out for you, even if you might no longer believe in Him — or feel certain about Him, or whatever. 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 26, 2010
So who is winning these contests? No one I know.
And I’m glad you didn’t die drinking all that Pepsi. I would suggest that maybe God was watching out for you, too, but I have to believe that if there is a God, He probably drinks Coke.
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Amiable Amiable
November 26, 2010
I’m laughing because many people would consider marriage and parenting as taking a gamble. You’re absolutely right, though – you couldn’t have any bigger “winnings” than your wonderful wife and family!
With all of this talk about God and gambling, I have to confess to something – but it really wasn’t my fault! When my husband and I recently hosted our Korean pastor from our partner church outside of Seoul, we took him to Mohegan Sun, one of CT’s two casinos. But he asked to go! Which prompted me to ask, “But, Pastor, will God forgive us for bringing you to a casino?!” He assured me that it was okay. The three of us each put $10 into the slots. He lost his money, my husband and I both walked away with $15. So, my next question just occured to me. Will God forgive my husband and me for not donating our winnings to the Korean partner church? I’m afraid to get on my bike now. The other confession: I laughed at the thought of you on your bike. Sorry! But glad you survived!
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bronxboy55
November 26, 2010
I guess any major decision (marriage, children, buying a house, moving to a different country) is a gamble. I’ve found that things almost never go the way I expected, and the secret lies in how we respond to the surprises. Apparently, even winning millions in the lottery can turn out to be a disaster, depending on the decisions you make afterward. And speaking of winning, I noticed that the three of you walked out of Mohegan Sun with the same amount of money you went in with; it had just been redistributed. But I guess if God had wanted the Korean church to end up with the money, it would have worked out that way. So I think you’re safe.
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Allan Douglas
November 26, 2010
A very entertaining story, and a good message. Having worked as management in a casino, I can confirm that you made the right choice! Other gambles in life are much more worthwhile, but hedging your bet with a little study is always a good thing. Thanks for sharing!
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bronxboy55
November 26, 2010
Casino management? I bet you have some stories we’d all love to hear. I’m heading over to your blog right now to find out.
Thanks for the nice comment, Allan.
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Mitch
November 26, 2010
Hah, you got called on it by your sister! lol
Man, I’m laughing because parts of this seem so close to me. No, we didn’t have bike helmets back then. Heck, I don’t even remember motorcycle helmets except for police. And the gambling thing, slots and the like… man, does that bring back memories as well. We all had a system; those things don’t last long, do they?
No, I haven’t quite won all the prizes I need so far. I’m not sure you have either, my man. I think we all strive for that next “big thing”, even if we’re not sure what it is. I think it’s what keeps us all going. Well, that plus the great stories we can get from them and then share with others.
“You told me to shut up??” Classic! 😀
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bronxboy55
November 26, 2010
We’ll certainly always have things to strive for. At least I hope so. But I think by now we’ve gotten our priorities straight, and we know what things are at the top of the list.
And no, I didn’t get called on it by my sister. She was just asking for verification. (I think from now on I’ll talk about my younger brother. He doesn’t read my blog.)
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Mitch
December 3, 2010
It was still funny as sin; I like that. 😀
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khandise
November 28, 2010
excellent… i loved reading it 🙂 especially the part about things NOT worth gambling with 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 28, 2010
Thanks, khandise. I’m glad you liked it, and I look forward to reading your blog, as well.
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partialview
November 28, 2010
Gosh, that ride down the steep-yet-not-so-steep road must’ve been frightening! They are right, then. God does forgive confession bunking. 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 28, 2010
Another one of those incidents — out of millions — that I can still recall, complete with the accompanying sense of panic. As for the forgiveness, I guess we’ll see.
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oh
November 28, 2010
My brother won that same bike. But he wasn’t the one that rode it downhill, found the brakes failed and was faced with an interstate crossroad – it was my husband! On his first visit to meet my family, he took a needed time out and took my brother’s old bike for a spin and came back to us, shaking his head and laughing. Being an excellent raconteur, he turned his story into an escapade, my parents fell in love with him and my brother clapped him on the shoulder.
Your line about God loving new bikes is just perfect. I think he loves old new bikes, too. And boyfriends who become husbands.
Can’t remember how I came here, but glad I did.
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bronxboy55
November 29, 2010
Meeting the family and having a near-death experience. That story should last him forever.
Thank you for the comment. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you on shoreacres, so that must be how you ended up here. I’m going to check out your blog now.
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Sire
November 28, 2010
The fact that I read the whole story just goes to show how good it really was.
So, what was with the pedal brakes, they weren’t working or were you peddling the wrong way? 😉
It’s true though, the thing that provides a person the most value is usually right in front of them, it’s just a shame that so many people fail to see it.
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bronxboy55
November 29, 2010
Thanks, Sire. I keep trying to make the posts shorter, and they seem to get wordier every time. I’m glad you stayed with it.
About the pedal brakes, it was a case of too much force in one direction, and not enough in the other. I was pretty good at pedaling, but I’ve never figured out peddling. I probably never will.
I appreciate the kind words.
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shoreacres
November 29, 2010
I’ve never been in a casino, and I’ve never been on a cruise ship. When I think about being inside either one, I see myself in a cute little black and white outfit in a room with bars, maybe dragging a ball and chain around behind me.
But I’ve trestle-walked plenty! Nothing quite like memorizing the schedule of the fast freight, learning how to pick up vibrations from the rails and then heading across the gap. We always figured we could swing under the tracks and hold on to the wooden framing.
Sometimes when mom referred to me as her idiot child, it sounded affectionate. Sometimes it just sounded like she thought I was an idiot. We didn’t have any casinos around then, but she’d have been just as happy if I’d started hanging out at the pool hall.
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bronxboy55
November 29, 2010
I’ve tried a few crazy things, but I think I’ll pass on the trestle-walking. As for casinos, we went to Las Vegas last year and walked through a dozen or more of them, but on our way to dinner or a show. Feeding our hard-earned cash into a machine seems completely senseless. I’m with you on the cruise ship. We know plenty of people who love cruises, but we prefer to explore on our own. I guess we all gamble in one way or another.
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Val Erde
December 1, 2010
Great post as ever, Charles. (Take heed of Mitch and do a book of them!)
I’m very wary about gambling as there were a couple of gamblers wayyyy back in my ancestry that didn’t do very much good for their families (one left his wife to bring up eight kids by herself). I’ve played fruit machines (as they’re called here, or used to be) but only got lucky on the penny ones in an amusement arcade when I was a kid. I thought I had a system myself then, but thankfully someone came and got me before I fed them all my pennies. I’ve never been in a casino and just wouldn’t even try going into one. I suspect I do have an ‘addictive’ personality (though really that word should mean that people are addicted to me!) so there’s no point in testing it.
I’ve only ever won two things (I don’t count fruit machines as ‘winning’, to me it’s just… I dunno, something else). One was a yellow plastic banana shaped flute when I was a tiny wee thing, and the other was a tube of the most wonderful paint called ‘interference medium’ (it changes colour when viewed at different angles). However, my husband says that the reason I don’t win anything else is because I don’t enter anything!! And d’you know – I think he’s right!
😉
One gamble I had to take though was selling our house in London, England and moving after the sale, without knowing if we’d get a house to live in or when. I’m so glad we did, though, because we found this fabulous place, the house, the garden, the surrounds and the area – and our life has become so much better since we moved here to rural Wales. And yes – I have a lovely husband and a lot of other blessings.
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bronxboy55
December 1, 2010
Sounds as though you’ve won your share of great prizes, too, Val. I’m glad. As for the fruit (or slot) machines, I know what you mean. It’s pure luck, or in our case, pure lack of lack. It doesn’t mean much.
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cooperstownersincanada
December 2, 2010
Another great read and a life lesson as well. Thanks for writing this and giving me something to think about.
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bronxboy55
December 3, 2010
Thank you, Kevin, for taking the time to read this long post, and commenting on it, too.
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Margaret Reyes Dempsey
January 26, 2011
Very entertaining. I like the captions on your pictures. 🙂
Around my 5th birthday, I won a huge donkey at the Nativity B.V.M. church bazaar in Ozone Park by playing my birthdate on the wheel. (There was adult supervision. I didn’t just mosey on up to the stand with my piggy bank.)
That is the only thing I’ve ever won. I’m not much of a gambler. I like the cushiony feel of money in my own pockets. However, I’m fond of calculated risks in life and have had some success there. I still buy the weekly lottery ticket, though. You gotta be in it to win it.
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bronxboy55
January 27, 2011
A few years ago I opened a retirement account that was based largely on the bond market. I didn’t really know what the bond market was, but the bar graphs in the brochure looked impressive. A month later I got my first statement and saw that the account already had less money in it than I’d put in. So I immediately changed it to a guaranteed interest account. I’m not much of a gambler, either.
Congratulations on the donkey. And thanks for the nice comment.
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Sandra Parsons
June 16, 2013
I’m not sure how my husband would react to being called a prize but I sure feel lucky that I met him. Then again, I wasn’t really gambling when I finally gave in and agreed to date him. Someone who put this much effort into pursuing me, of all people, couldn’t be wrong for me. So far, it looks like I was right!
What a lovely post, Charles, I am glad you linked to it.
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bronxboy55
June 17, 2013
Sandra, to feel lucky that you’re with the person you’re with has to be the biggest prize of all. I’m glad you both have that.
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