Of course when we heard about the accident, I'm sure the first thought through the minds of many of us (me, at least) was "I knew it would happen someday - that guy was so reckless". But as it turned out it was just a freak accident. The coroner's report and his dad's testimony say that no alcohol or excessive speed was involved. Apparently road conditions were just really bad that day and they just hit the ice wrong. Markus did possess enough survival instinct, after all, to make it to 23.
Here is the sort of thing he used to do. One time someone stole the seat off his bike. He didn't get around to replacing it right away so he was riding around with no seat (remember, everyone, how Markus would extoll the virtues of the bicycle over walking... especially his bicycle... hee hee). So here he was with no seat when one day he also decided to ride with no hands. Later, in the hospital, I asked him what he had been thinking. "I don't know," he said. "I really don't know. I just felt like trying it. So I did." And this was the essence of everything Markus did. Spontaneous and instinctive, hardly ever planned or thought out. It made for some very interesting adventures.
Markus' contagious enthusiasm sometimes became a little too contagious for comfort. When he wanted to bike down to Spanish Banks (a beach) with me, I pointed out I didn't have a bike. "No problem," he said, "you can use your rollerblades." "Are you kidding? Go down that hill on rollerblades?" I said nervously. But somehow he managed to convince me that it was a great idea and would be great fun and completely safe. We started out ok, but then we got to the hill and we really got going. There I was going 50 miles an hour down this narrow road with cars whizzing by just feet away, gravel on the road and me with no pads - not that it would matter if I wiped out and got run over. It was then that I wondered how he had talked me into it and that it was so unlike me, cautious as I was. I kept wondering over and over, "what was I thinking?" Then, on the way back, I did it again - I agreed to grab on to the back of his bike and coast in order for us to get home faster. Now this would be fine for someone a little more expert in the skating arts, but not me. Anyway, I survived. And it was fun. And if Markus were here now, I might even be talked into doing it again.
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Markus used to walk around in the morning in his underwear. Someone once pointed out that he was walking around in his underwear, and he said "so what?" That was the end of that. He would go downstairs and go about his business, making breakfast or whatever, and since the elastic on his undies was always worn out, he would hold them up with one hand and work with the other. A curious sight to say the least. Once in a while he would stop in front of the picture window to admire the sunrise, or the flowers, or the birds, or whatever. The girls across the street, whose picture window faced ours, were not amused. Someone once pointed this out. But you know what he said.
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Markus is largely responsible for my current interest in tea. He had quite a collection, and whenever I would go to his place in Totem, the first thing he would do was make tea and put on classical music. We spent many a late night discussing the game over Earl Grey and Beethoven or Bach (I still carry on the tradition of the tea/Bach connection). He introduced me to such fancy concepts as tea that does not come from teabags. At one point he made a study of the proper water temperature and steeping time of different teas, and expounded it to me enthusiastically. While fascinating, I do not, unfortunately, remember any of it and I still drink tea like a regular slob.