30. The Day I was Almost Murdered

Some of you have asked me to post some memories about freshman year at Syracuse University. As amazing as my memory may seem to some of you, there are gaps. You see, in 1990 (or was 1991, or 1992?) a black man thought I had stolen his car stereo. He tried to kill me by running me over with his car. Who nursed me back to health? My dear Debbie.

Aww, anybody insulted because I said a black guy tried to kill me? TUFF SHIT! That fucking nigger was more racist than me, because he ran over the first SPIC he saw on a bike. This is gonna be raw folks, so if you have a weak stomach or are overly sensitive about racial issues, go smoke some pot or something (and save me some!). This is the first time I almost died, and I am a little touchy about it.

It was shortly after the Puerto Rican Day parade. It was a lovely summer day. Freelancing is a feast or famine business. I can have two solid weeks of work, then three weeks of nothing. During those gaps, I would hop on my bike and do some long-distance cycling. I love bike riding. That day, I left my apartment in SoHo, crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge, and rode through Brooklyn until I reached Atlantic Avenue. I figure I'd go see my friend Herbie Quiñones at his job out in Jamaica Queens. I had some time to kill (ironic), so I rode around for a while; I think it was Sunset Blvd., I'm not really sure. I had my Puerto Rican Flag attached to my bike, proclaiming my racial pride and heritage. I remember being WAY out in Queens; 190th, 225th Street, something like that. I passed the parking lot of what I learned later was a Mental hospital (don't remember the name), which explains a lot. I remember seeing another Hispanic guy on a bike, cruising around the lot. I thought nothing of it. As I rode leisurely up the boulevard, I saw that Latino guy pass me. Again, big deal. There was hardly a car on the road. I heard an engine noise, and I saw a white Monte Carlo coming up behind me. I moved to the right to give him plenty of room to pass. Next thing I know, this car is almost on top of me! That negro maricón hijo de la gran PUTA was pushing me ever closer to the cars parked on my right! I start to yell "YO! WHAT THE FUCK..." BOOM!!! That motherfucker swings his car hard to the right. I start bouncing between his car and the cars to the right. I hit the asphalt, and see nothing but hubcaps as I slide on the street for about 5 or 6 car lengths. I can FEEL that son of a bitch's tires barely miss my skull. I skid to a stop. My whole left side is fucked up. I picked up my head, and saw blood pouring from my left temple like water from a faucet. For some reason, I looked at my watch, which was spattered with my blood. It was a Timex watch. And yes, it was still working. I remember saying, WOW! Takes a licking, and keeps on ticking!

While I lay there in a pool of blood, a white man who was walking his dog across the street runs over and holds my head. "Don't move! I called an ambulance!" Meanwhile, that fucking moyeto parks his car way up the block so I can't see his license plate. He and his fat black piece of shit baby momma get out the car and stroll over as I bleed profusely.

Where's my car stereo!

What the fuck are you talking about? You fucking killed me!

They told me a Puerto Rican on a bike broke into my car and stole my stereo! Where is it?!

He leans over and grabs my bloody bag to search it. I am spitting blood as I let loose a tirade that would make a klansman proud.

You black nigger piece of shit! I don't have your fucking stereo! You run over the first spic on a bike you see!? FUCK YOU!

I remember his girlfriend standing there. Black as coal with blond hair. That fat cunt must've weighed 300 pounds. And this fucking jungle bunny, still dressed in jailhouse orange sweat shirt and pants, still trying to go through my blood-soaked shoulder bag. With my last ounce of strength I snatched it back. This tusa was not going to search me!

Dayquan and Takwonka or whatever their ghettos names were stroll back to their car and make a hard U-turn just as a cop car pulls up. I had just been the victim of black racism. I am now about to become the victim of white NYPD racism.

The cops alight from their vehicle. I scream and point at the car going the opposite way. "There he goes! That's the motherfucker who tried to kill me!" What do these fat donut-eating white piece of crap coppers do? NOTHING! NADA! ZILCH! They start jawing with each other in that cop accent.

Whaddaya wanna do Joey?

Ahh let's wait for the paramedics and let them handle it.

Wait! the guy who hit me went that way! Go get him!

The cops ignore me.

C'mon! You cant miss him! Look for a white car with scratches and my blood on the right side! He was big fat black guy dressed head to toe in orange! His girlfriend is this big fat football-shaped woman, black as shit with blond hair! We don't need Columbo here to find them!

Ignored again. I now spew venom at the cops.

You motherfucking honkeys! If I was some little white girl, you guys would be stopping every nigger on the street, whether he fit the description or not!

The paramedics arrive. They start to clean my wounds and bandage me up. I'm feeling faint.

Should we take him to the hospital?

Naah, he's okay.

But I want to go!

You'll be alright.

I'm stranded in Queens. The victim of a racially motivated attack. Damn near killed. To add insult to traumatic injury, someone stole my bloody bike!

Oh, but wait! There's more! I must tell you the victimization had not yet ended! When I tried to report it as a racially motivated attack, the police said it was not, because I was hispanic and the attacker was black! Then they "lost" the police report! I was told:

You were not the victim of a racially motivated attack.

Why not?

Because you fit the description.

A PUERTO RICAN ON A BIKE IS NOT A DESCRIPTION!

I need a break now, but I will report how I was further victimized by NYPD, New York State, Channel 9 news, Arnold Diaz of Channel 2 News, El Diario/La Prensa, the NAACP, and the City Sun newspaper.

And don't be insulted by my epithets. What happened was what happened. YOU get run over by a car, and let's see you sing the Ave Maria!

More to come...