A few days later he ran
into the front yard very upset.
Apparently, while bike riding with neighborhood kids, he was speeding
perilously close to the creek. Given the choice; he jumped rather than break
and the bike tumbled down the hill into the water. The whole family ran down the block to
retrieve the bike. Daddy was the one who
brought it out of the ravine. It had the
first of many dings it would receive over the years.
That red and white bike
wasn’t MY present, but next summer I pulled it up to the porch step and swung
my leg over the bar. I wanted to learn
to ride; to feel free; to have the wind on MY face. For two days Les worked to help me learn to
ride. On the second day, when Daddy came
home we gave him the great news. He
said, “Well let’s see what you can do!”
We walked the bike about a block away from our house on Roosevelt Street
Yes, that bike, still today, is the best birthday present
I never got.
Oh the first bike ride! I could not touch the pedals so my dad put those chunky blocks on the the pedals. Yes, the freedom and the wind in my face. Sort of prelude to my love of road trips. My mom had a 1963 Impala Convertible when I was learning to drive and so I learned to drive a "topless" car which truly was having the wind in my face. My other freedom was sledding down the huge hills around where I lived. Of course one then had to pull the sled all the way back to the top but that never seemed too hard walking along friend with stiff mittens, rosey cheeks and giggling as the our foggy breath came out with every word. You bring some great memories back! Did you ever get your own bike?
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