Brian, Buz, and the Super Stunt Dirt Bike

“Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!” – Theodor Seuss Geisel, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Submitted by Brian, TN (Brian’s own blog can be found here)

Lead photo courtesy of Misti Kincaid Photography.

I have a lot of fond memories of celebrating the holidays as the youngest of three kids in the 80s. The cheesy Christmas songs (I’m looking at you, Band Aid), making myself sick on mom’s Christmas cookie batter, decorating our tree with everything from popcorn & cranberry chains to homemade ornaments–it all brings a smile to my face. I’d like to share one of my happiest Christmases with my big brother, Buz. If you are reading this post and don’t celebrate Christmas, please indulge me.

I was asked recently what the best Christmas present I ever received was. Without hesitation, I replied, “a Super Stunt Dirt Bike.” What is a Super Stunt Dirt Bike, you ask? “It goes through water!! It does loop-de-loops!!” As a young boy in the early 80s, there was nothing I wanted more. Compared with toys today, this may look like nothing special. But over 30 years ago, the Super Stunt Dirt Bike was a technological marvel. You just wound it up, and that sucker could do anything, go anywhere, through any terrain, and do tricks!!! I imagined building elaborate courses for my dirt bike. I already had a loop-de-loop with Buz’s matchbox car track!!! We lived on a small farm in western Washington, and my active imagination foresaw endless space for my bike to zip around.

I did everything I could to get my hands on this prize. If you’ve watched A Christmas Story, this was my “Red Rider BB Gun.” I dropped overt hints to my parents. I asked Santa; I wrote letters; I sat on laps. I had an elaborate campaign. If I could have requisitioned a billboard on our street, I would have plastered it with, “BUY BRIAN A SUPER STUNT DIRT BIKE!! LIFE HAS LOST ALL MEANING WITHOUT ONE!!!” 

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. I’ve done everything humanly possible to get someone–anyone, parents, mythical red-suited Saints with elf-slaves, strange guy always trying to give me candy from his windowless white van, I didn’t care–to buy me my coveted toy. I was so filled with anticipation for Christmas morning, I could hardly contain myself. Would I be happily racing my dirt bike across the wrapper-strewn living room floor Christmas morning, or would I be despondently sitting on the couch in a hideous Christmas sweater from great-aunt So-and-So mumbling, “I love it. What a warm sweater. Best Christmas ever, mom. *SSSSIIIIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH*” ?

Buz was anxious to see if he’d gotten his own present. For the life of me, I can’t remember what he wanted; that’s how selfishly focused I was on the Super Stunt Dirt Bike. We secretly agreed to get up in the middle of the night to see the bounty from Santa. Yes, I still believed in Santa Claus, and Buz was too kind to tell me the truth about the big, fat man. 

Buz planned to set his alarm in our small, ranch-style farm house. He would then sneak into my room, quietly wake me up, and we would tip-toe to the living room where I might get a peek at Kris Kringle himself! That fateful night, I was filled with anticipation for our mission. My parents’ rules were strict: No Leaving Your Room Until Christmas Morning!!! I don’t know how, but I eventually drifted off to sleep. 

The next thing I knew, my brother was standing over me, silently shaking me awake. The house was freezing cold. We primarily heated it with a wood stove, and the fire had died down during the night. It must’ve been shortly after midnight. Being out in the country, there were no city or street lights outside to help illuminate the interior. There was no moon. It was pitch-dark in that house. I experimentally wriggled my fingers in front of my face and couldn’t see a thing. As quietly as possible, I slipped out of bed, and we slowly crept down the hall to the living room. Did the Christmas tree have lights on it to help us see? I don’t know, but by my recollection I was completely blind. Apparently, I’d missed Santa, or he hadn’t yet appeared. I couldn’t see enough to tell if he’d come, but he obviously wasn’t in the room with us. Buz and I fumbled across the icy floor, agonizing over every sound we made, lest we wake our parents. I carefully felt the area around the tree. The stockings were full!!! Santa came!!! How does he find the time?? As Buz knelt beside me and clumsily felt for any new gifts that hadn’t surrounded the tree when we went to bed, my own paws searched for loot like a blind man searching frantically for a pile of gold.

…Wait…

…Was that…

…My fingers felt a hard plastic surface…

…Surely this wasn’t here last night!!! 

…Is that a round crank on the side of this toy??? 

…A ridged handle for gripping as I set my bike loose on glorious adventures?? 

…And what is this??? 

…I feel two wheels…

…And that could only be a helmeted rider ready for the kind of missions that only Team America can handle!!!

With irrepressible glee, I loudly whispered to my brother, “I think it’s a Super Stunt Dirt Bike!!!” 

Our mission complete, we crept back to our warm beds and I happily drifted back to sleep. Sure, there were other gifts to open, but I felt like Christmas was already over. Whether from Santa, my parents, some wealthy relative, or a creepy stranger, my gift had arrived. That’s all that mattered. My eyes closed that night as my mind laid plans for my spectacular bike course. Any other gift was secondary. 

So, what’s the point of this post? When I was a kid, I wanted this special toy. The night before Christmas, I got up, snuck out of bed and confirmed that I did, indeed, get the toy. Is that it? Sounds like a lame knockoff of A Christmas Story. At least that movie had a leg lamp. Where’s the leg lamp in this story?!?

The problem with this story is it’s all about me, and the whole point of this awesome site Cami created is that we’re supposed to share how others have impacted our lives in a positive way. I can’t recall if Buz found his own coveted present that night. I don’t remember what he wore when he gently woke me up. I can’t remember what he said. I know he was there, but that’s it. What grade was he in, sixth or seventh? I don’t even know if this was a happy Christmas memory for him. And I can’t ask him about it. My brother lost his battle with lymphoma in November of 1992. He was 23, and I was only 17, and he’s been in my thoughts every day since. If he was alive, I wouldn’t think twice about it. My sister’s still around and I’m sure not lamenting the fact that I can’t remember if she was there that night. Just kidding, Ginger. I love you very much. 

I can’t help but feel a little ashamed of my own self-absorption that Christmas. What was Buz’s “Super Stunt Dirt Bike?” What toy did he dream about?

That’s my happy Christmas memory, but I’ll never be able to fill in all the details because my brother is gone. 

In my defense, I was just a kid. So I can be forgiven if I was thinking more about a plastic toy that would likely break before the New Year than about my big brother. Because when you’re eight, everybody lives forever and cancer is something that happens to other families.

My point is that even today, I don’t always appreciate my friends and family enough. I’m too focused on the dismal state of the Denver Broncos, or the latest holiday drink from Starbucks, or Baby Yoda to notice the important people in my life. I try to remind myself to be better, but Baby Yoda is so damn cute.

Buz was the coolest, most patient big brother I could ask for. He played basketball on his knees with me when I had one of those plastic hoops mounted on my door, and he still always won. His favorite 80s singer was Corey Hart (go play “Sunglasses at Night” for your kids in his honor). He introduced me to Dungeons & Dragons (if you have a kobold problem, my 6th Level Dwarf, Ironwolf, will take care of it) and my abiding love of reading fantasy and science fiction. He drove me to a Little League practice blaring U2’s Joshua Tree album, and I was the coolest kid in the world. There are a million things I wish I could share with Buz today.

My wish for you: Whatever you celebrate this holiday season, I hope you get your own “Super Stunt Dirt Bike.” May you share precious moments with the ones you love and please note the details. In the future, they may be all you have.