Jack couldn’t believe his luck when he’d finally been invited to hang out with Lewis and his crew after school. He wondered if they’d caught wind of the sick new e-bike he’d got for his birthday and perhaps now they were taking him seriously. Too conscientious to be an all-out bad-kid but too quick to anger to be a goodie-two-shoes, Jack felt between identities and secretly worried that no one at school took him seriously. But ever since he’d seen that group popping wheelies along Union Street in their head-to-toe black outfits he’d been incensed with the idea of joining them. He thought that there was something in the way they looked so carefree and unafraid – it spoke deeply to the boy of fourteen. He held a quiet hope that among that group, popping wheelies, was where he’d find his place.

Wearing the black puffy North Face jacket his gran had got him for Christmas zipped all the way up, despite it being a warm late-spring evening, he steered his bike around the corner of the multistory carpark where he’d been told to go. He heard the group laughing loudly before he saw them and it sent the nerves swirling in his chest. His phone vibrated. He checked. A WhatsApp from Mum – “have a nice time darling. Be back by 7 xx” He slid his phone back in his pocket and took a deep breath. Swallowing his fear, he peddled towards the echoing sound. He rounded a corner into a deeper underground area of the carpark sprinkled with puddles, graffiti tags and yellow wall lights. He spotted the crew of what he estimated was twelve kids around his own age, gathered by a fire exit with their sleek black bikes resting on kickstands next to them. His bike chain’s click-click-click alerted them to his presence. 

“Awright, Jack.” A member of the group stepped towards Jack and it took him a moment to recognise his classmate Lewis beneath all of the black clothes and dim light.  

“Awright Lewis. Cheers fir invitin’ me.” Lewis was in a few of Jack’s classes. Not quite a full-scale rabble-rouser but not one to shy from a bit of replacement teacher torture. 

“Nice bike.” He offered. 

“Thanks. I left it charging at hame the day so the battery’s full.”

“Nice one. Can you dae a wheelie?”

“Um a wee bit, aye.” He’d been practicing. 

“Good. That’s good.”

Jack glanced at the other crew members and noticed some were wearing balaclavas making it impossible to identify them. They hadn’t taken much notice of him and they continued to loudly cajole each other, the sound bouncing off the damp walls making them sound more like a raucous group of thirty.

“Here, before you join you gotta sign this.” Said Lewis as he produced a sheet of paper from inside his North Face puffer and handed it to Jack. 

“What’s this?” 

“Nuhin’ really. Just an agreement that means you won’t tell folk what we get up tae.” 

Jack had heard of this kind of thing but it’d been the last thing he expected here. He read the top of the document, ‘Non Disclosure Agreement’. 

“Dae I need to?” Jack asked. 

“How? You keen to grass us up, like?” Replied Lewis, his voice quick and raising in annoyed tones. 

“No, no, nuhin’ like that. Jus’ wondering.”

Lewis’ flame cooled. “We’ve all done it, man. It’s just to keep hings private. Don’t want folk knowing what we’re about eh. That’s aw.”

“Right, course.” 

Lewis handed Jack a thick and surprisingly solid feeling fountain pen which he popped the lid off then scribbled his messy signature. He handed it back to Lewis who folded it in half with a neat crease down its center and slid it back into his jacket interior. He smiled and said “stick wi’ me today, I’ll keep ye right. Awright, bro?” The tension that had been gathering in Jack’s shoulders suddenly eased with the acceptance of being called bro and he returned the smile. 

“Aye, sounds good.”

Jack flinched suddenly as the crew began to loudly yelp and holler as they whizzed past him heading to a nearby daylit street exit. He listened to the bumblebee hum of their e-bike motors rise and diminish as they zoomed off. It made him smile. They’d been yelling something, a repeated phrase that he couldn’t quite make out. “Better keep up, Jacky-boy” said Lewis as he strode past at a far more casual pace, inviting Jack to join him. 

Soon enough the whole crew was making their way along Union Terrace, carving leisurely wide s-shapes along the road which was patterned with the setting sun’s hard shadows. Post-work traffic had made the roads busy and plump seagulls drifted overhead. Jack tried to imitate the movements of the group so as not to seem out of place but became more interested in watching from the back and soon he noticed the division that seemed to naturally appear in how the crew moved. At the front were five lads who were amazing at wheelies, all in balaclavas leading the way. Behind them was another group of riders who seemed good at bunny-hopping and endos, some in balaclavas, some wheelie-ing. And behind them a more chilled group who maintained a general sense of importance by not speeding up or moving out of the way when confronted with honking road traffic. Jack thought they were all cool for different reasons. And he was a part of them now. At least, provisionally. That phrase he heard earlier would be shouted every now and then as though it were being barked out by a bully-breed. Jack eventually got his ear around the phrase, “spokes high” which he didn’t recognise or understand but assumed to be some kind of in-joke he hoped to soon learn of. 

Admiring the five front wheelie riders, he leaned over to Lewis who was pedalling next to him, “here Lewis, should I get a balaclava?” he asked. His new friend smiled and without looking at him replied.

“That depends, Jacky-boy. What ya want it for?” The unexpected question stumped him and he paused for longer than he’d have liked. 

“I dunno, I guess so people can’t recognise me. Like, security cameras and stuff too.” He was sure that was a good answer. They swerved past a pulled over bus. 

“Is that why you think we wear them?” Lewis asked.

“Aye, something like that.”

“Fair enough. Let me ask ya – you ever seen those monks that live up in the mountains in wee red robes? All doing karate an’nat.”

“Eh aye, like on TV.”

“Do ye ken the first thing they get new monks to dae when they join?”

“Uh nah not really.”

“They shave their heeds.”

“Right…Why?”

“Because hair and more broadly our appearance, are big parts of what makes me Lewis and you Jack. But see if you’ve got a big bald heed and wear the same claes as everybody else, well, now you’re no so special. It becomes easier to be no one.”

Jack considered this and suddenly the black plain outfits they all wore made more sense but then he scrunched up his face, “wait, why’s that good?”

“Because being no one means no worrying about being Jack. And wouldn’t that be one big ‘hing less to worry about?”

“…so a balaclava is like, a way for yous to worry less?”

“You could put it like that, aye. But what’s more important tae us is what being free of worry means.”

“…What does it mean?”

“I’ll let you think about that one, Jacky-boy.” Lewis picked up his pace, did a small bunny-hop off a curb and cycled off ahead of Jack, leaving him baffled at the back of the group. So far his evening hadn’t quite gone as expected but he was intrigued and found himself wanting to learn more. He gave a few hard pedals, feeling his electric motor kick in and pushed to catch up. 

The crew had made their way onto Union Street and Jack noticed immediately that their trajectory was pointed towards McDonalds. His mum had taken him here a few days ago as a treat but he had a few pounds in his pocket that weren’t bound by her “no more than once a week” rule and he could already taste the salty chips. By the time he pulled up most of the crew were already sitting atop their parked bikes outside the McDonalds entrance, forming an intimidating partition as one of the balaclava front-runners stepped inside. Jack rode up to Lewis. 

“Are they gonna order for everyone?” He asked.

“Aye. 99p menu scran, mate.”

“Nice one. So, is he the leader then?” 

“Harris? What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s getting the food and he seems best at wheelies, riding at the front too.”

“Aye it’s true, Harris is amazing at wheelies. But d’ya ‘hink that makes Harris better than everyone else? Let me ask ye, if it’s not wheelies then what trait should qualify someone for the kind of supremacy to lead another?” 

“Uh, I dunno. Being oldest?”

“Is that how you’d wanna be led? Does age equal wisdom or fairness? Coz I think of Mr. Grieves who’s ancient and he’s an absolute dobber.” Jack thought of the graying geography teacher and agreed – he was a dobber. 

“Aye, guess not.”

“We don’t need a hierarchy. Aye, we’ve all got different talents but all of us are equally and inherently valuable – so long as we’re aligned with ourselves. Harris is amazing at wheelies and his reward is the joy of doing something well that speaks to his true nature. If you can understand who you are, then the only leader you’ll ever need is your own intuition. Self-discovery begets self-mastery.” said Lewis, between cloudy puffs of watermelon flavoured Elfbar. 

Jack had never heard anyone he knew speak like this and was especially baffled to hear it from his fellow fourteen year old classmate, who just this morning he’d watched draw a big penis on a classmate’s jotter in Sharpie. 

“I just…I had nae idea that you guys were so thoughtful wi’ this kinda stuff…I…”

He heard a deep voice interrupt from behind him, “spokes high.” Lewis looked over Jack’s shoulder and responded.

“Spokes high, Harris. Here, Jack wants to know how you’re so good at wheelies.”

Jack turned to see the taller boy standing behind him, balaclava pulled up so only his eyes could be seen. They impassively traced over Jack as though analysing him before a deep sound emerged from the balaclava. “Just, dinny think about it eh.” Jack took that in and nodded as he tried desperately to understand. Harris lifted Jack’s hand and pushed a paper-wrapped 99p cheeseburger into it, holding both the burger and Jack’s hand in his own for the smallest of pauses. Jack felt as though he’d been bestowed a great gift. 

“Cheers” he said but it came out embarrassingly as a reverent whisper, far quieter than he’d hoped. Harris made a circle shape with his pointer finger and thumb, held it to his chest and said in his low tone “spokes high, brothers”. 

Lewis copied the gesture and replied, “spokes high.” Harris turned away to sit on his bike seat, pulled down his balaclava revealing a pubescent wispy mustache and began eating chips from a paper bag. 

Jack turned back to Lewis – “spokes high?” 

“Spokes high. It’s a reminder – even though we can’t always be on our bikes we can still be living like we’re wheelie-ing. Elevated from the ground, focused, in the moment, front spokes high to the sky.”

“You guys have thought of it all eh.” 

“Just the important stuff, we like to think.”

Jack held up the burger in his hand. “Come on then, tell me how cheeseburgers have some kind of special meaning in your gang.” Jack said half-mockingly. 

Lewis chuckled and replied, “how about you tell me?”

“I bet it’s the cheese. Which represents…life, in some way. Rubbish on its own but nice together with other ingredients…or something…” 

Lewis raised his eyebrows looking semi-impressed and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Decent take. But we eat cheeseburgers, Jacky-boy, because cheeseburgers slap. Nice try though.” They laughed and enjoyed their soggy 99p burgers, sitting on uncomfortable bike seats as the sky turned peach over old granite rooftops. 

In about as much time as it took to finish a relatively small cheeseburger, a large security guard wearing high-vis had come out and shooed them away. After a few jeers and projectile chips in his direction they were moving again in formation, this time with Jack and Lewis in the middle of the group as they continued their way down Union Street.

Jack’s mind whirled as he tried to make sense of all of the unexpected details of his evening so far – the contract, the hand-signs, the deep importance they put on wheelie-ing – but was struggling to fit it all together. But still he wanted to understand. He thought they were just a group of mates who looked cool but what he’d discovered was so much more. He wanted to make a show of his commitment to the gang and to learning their ways. He wanted to earn their approval. So with a great heft he tugged back on his handlebars while quickly pumping his pedals, kicking up his front wheel into a wheelie. He rode a few good paces, wobbling side to side to keep his balance, before the front wheel thudded back down to the tarmac. It wasn’t his best but the few weeks of practice he’d put in had definitely helped. Lewis raised his eyebrows, “not bad, not bad!”.

“Cheers.” Jack replied humbly. 

“You’re thinking too much though. It’s weighing you down.”

“What ya mean?”

“I can see in your eyes – you’re thinking about the wheelie. Tryin’ to keep your balance. It’s the trying, the thinking, that makes you heavy. You gotta shed the weight.”

“Of course I’m trying to balance. How else would I dae it?” Jack replied, frustration colouring his voice. 

“You could do it like Harris. Like a fallen leaf, floating on a breeze. Like, in that moment, that’s the only place you were ever meant to be. In total accordance.”

“In accordance with what?”

“The Flow.”

“…The flow of what?” 

“The universe.” Lewis puffed out a tutti-frutti flavoured vape cloud. 

“…Right.” 

“Remember, Jacky-boy, angels fly because they take themselves so lightly.” Lewis turned away from Jack and pedalled a few feet away as though giving him a moment to consider what he’d said. 

The frustration that had slipped its way into Jack’s mind had begun to curdle into anger. He wanted to fit in here but didn’t like all these riddles and he’d begun to feel patronised. It occurred to him that maybe this was all a joke at his expense, all this universe nonsense. His short temper was wanting some straight answers. He jerked on his handlebars again and pedalled harder into another upright wheelie but the front wheel crashed down even sooner this time with an accompanying grunt of frustration. “Sake!” He fumed.

“Awright, raj. Take a few breaths. Now, dinny think of the wheelie as the goal. Otherwise you get caught up in failing or succeeding which is an unhelpful duality. Your mind has to be empty and that includes thoughts of wanting to wheelie.”

Jack’s face scrunched as he considered how to wheelie without thinking about wheelie-ing. It seemed to him like a stupid contradiction. Lewis continued –

“For us, the wheelie is firstly an act of meditation, so you need to approach it as such. And secondly it’s an act of defiance. We lift ourselves up from the earth, we create balance in ourselves and we express our freedom while rejecting expectations placed on us by society at large. It’s our most sacred act. Like a kind of…prayer.”

Jack paused, taken aback by Lewis’ sincerity, his anger fading.

“I…I just thought it was because wheelies looked cool.”

“That’s what they all think, Jacky-boy. And they’re right, wheelies do look cool. But to wheelie – to truly understand it and execute it in its purest form – is to be in accordance with the truth of the universe. To be a note in the chord of infinity. We empty ourselves and become part of the great flow. To wheelie is to be closer to god.” 

Jack’s lips moved silently as he repeated the phrase back to himself, trying to break it down into understandable parts. To wheelie is to be closer to god. The evening sure wasn’t going how he’d anticipated. He’d expected to cruise around town with the lads, cause a bit of trouble and have a laugh. He hadn’t expected to be shown a methodology for life and he hadn’t expected to be ready for a radical shift in consciousness. Perhaps it was the 99p cheeseburger not sitting right or all of the second-hand vape clouds he’d inhaled, but he thought he could feel it starting to make sense. 

“Hey, it’s a lot to take in. I get it.” Lewis offered as though he could see Jack’s cogs grinding. “It doesn’t have to all make sense right now. For now,  just enjoy the ride, awright man.”

Quiet fell between the two of them as their tracksuit legs pedalled, their e-bike engines purring as they propelled westward along Union Street towards the setting sun. Jack decided to give his brain a break from trying to make sense of all this new information. He sat back and cruised as he took in the familiar sights of his city. He took a slow, deep breath. It occurred to him all of a sudden that the sky had become a deep apricot colour like he’d never seen before, the scattered clouds brilliantly reflecting the last of the sun’s light like the back of a CD. The world around him was buzzing with activity; shoppers, taxis, Just Eat scooters, commuters, families, pub-goers, buses, tourists. But despite the busyness and chaos, he had this unusual but unmistakable sense that things were in perfect order. Everything seemed to slow down and, for the first time in his fourteen years, to make sense. At that moment everyone seemed like trams on a track, with their own line and their own energy pushing them along it. He felt his mind begin to empty. The worries he hadn’t even realised he was carrying began to melt away. With each pedal he shed another cumbersome part of his anxious thinking mind. He felt his edges blur and became one with the bike and the motion they created together, as natural and flowing as a cresting wave. Realisation dawned on him.

“I think I understand what you were sayin’ earlier, about being free of worry and what that means.” He offered to Lewis, his skyward eyes wide and dumbstruck with newfound wonder. 

“Aye?”

As though in a trance, Jack replied, “Being free of worry means…being here, now. It’s being detached from the anxiety of existence and just living in harmony with the world. Like a leaf…dancing on the breeze.” 

Lewis smiled and took one hand off his handlebar, creating a circle with his thumb and forefinger and held it to his heart. “Spokes high, brother.”

Jack was so enraptured by his acute experience of the present moment that he’d failed to notice that the majority of the gang had formed a circle around him as they all rode and were watching his revelation as though they could sense his breaking through. Eyes peered expectantly through balaclava gaps and raspberry-ripple vape clouds were puffed into the atmosphere as though they were the incense accompanying a ceremony. A low rhythmic chant began;

 “Spokes. High. Spokes. High. Spokes. High.” 

Empty as a reed, chakras perfectly aligned, Jack uttered quietly to no one, “spokes high.” And without thinking he tugged back on his handlebars and pedalled hard. The watching crowd held their breath and watched through activated third eyes.

His front wheel lifted easily from the earth. He watched the tyre spin gently against the deep hue backdrop of the twilight sky above a granite skyline. He didn’t try to balance – he didn’t need to. Understanding clicked into place within him and he pedalled through waves of infinity in perfect accord. As he wheelied, weightless and care-free, he was made endless. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and a single bead rolled down his cheek. The crew cheered as they sensed it too – Jack had found his place in the universe. 

Though he couldn’t feel it, lost in the eternal present as he was, the phone in his pocket vibrated. A WhatsApp from his mum read “dinners out honey. Mac n cheese! See ya soon xx”

Every generation has its form of youth rebellion. Back in my day it was ASBOs (anti-social behaviour orders) and they were flaunted like badges of honor. It looks like our current generation of naughty boys are armed with expensive e-bikes and a penchant for black jackets. Wheelie-ing youth gangs seem to be a bit of a national phenomenon at the moment and Aberdeen is no exception. I found myself internally dismissing them, labelling their behaviour as puerile, antisocial and performative but then I checked myself (as I was about to wreck myself) and remembered that every group has culture. And where there’s culture there are symbols and rites and a vernacular. And what if their culture wasn’t what we’d expected? What if there were principles and systems around living full lives? What if it was embedded with deep Taoist philosophies? Well, Jack finds out.