My First Bike
I remember the exact day that I received my first bicycle, a hand me down from my older brother. The training wheels were long since lost, which didn’t stop me from wanting to learn to ride it. I would practice every day in the courtyard of the church next door to our house. Eventually I did learn to ride, but not without many scrapes and bruises, the worst of which was when my finger was smashed between the handle bars and a railing in the courtyard. My mom iced it and that was it, until the next morning I woke up with it swollen like a sausage, and it had turned a very angry purple and green color. My mom thought, “Oh crap, she’s broken her finger, and I’ve neglected it by not taking her to emergency right away.”, and off we went to the doctor’s office. The doctor assured her that it was nothing more than a bad bruise, and sent us home.
Once I learned to ride well, learned my hand signals (which I sometimes pull out to amuse Ted), and learned the rules of the road (doesn’t matter if you have the right of way, the car is bigger than you, so don’t fight about it), I would ride all over town. To my friends’ houses, through empty wooded lots that dotted Fairbanks, Alaska at that time, up and down little hills, always relishing the wind in my face and the freedom of being able to go wherever I wanted to go, at a moment’s notice. I loved that bike. The only bad thing about my little red Schwinn was that the brakes didn’t work. My brother used to take things apart a lot, and I suspect he had taken it apart one time too many. Though it’s possible that they simply wore out. Whatever, I never told my mom that the brakes didn’t work, for fear that she would take my beloved bike away from me. Riding a bike with no brakes led to more than one incident, including slamming into (and flying over) the door of a car that had opened suddenly in front of me, resulting in much of the unpaved gravel road being embedded into my face and arm. No matter. I was a tomboy, and had no interest in complaining about my bike’s lack of brakes.
I had that bike for a few years, until we left Fairbanks to move to California. We weren’t bringing many things with us, especially not an old bike that I had really outgrown. For some reason, my bike was the most popular in the neighborhood, and the other kids always wanted to borrow it for riding through wooded lots, on muddy little trails, between the berry brambles, pretending to be way out in the wild. I wanted to give my bike to our next door neighbor, a little girl named Collie or something sort of unusual like that, but her father decreed that such a fine and well respected bicycle must be worth something, and paid me the unthinkable sum of ten whole dollars. For a girl who received $0.75 a week in allowance, such a sum was unheard of. I missed that bike when we moved, and I hope that Collie got many good rides out of it.
I wonder if her dad got the brakes fixed?
15 Comments
Wanderlust Scarlett
*THAT* is one of the best bike stories ever.
Ever!
It kind of looks like a bike my sister wrecked on… and luckily walked away from.
Brought back memories of riding all over the hills in a bay area town in California when I grew up. I had legs and buns of sheer iron, and a killer tan.
I need to go bike shopping.
Scarlett & Viaggiatore
Ted
First bikes are great! I had a yellow Schwinn Sting-Ray and like your bike, the brake was applied by jamming your peddles in a backward to slow down or stop. On the Sting-Ray, there was a little metal doohickey that attached to the frame that kept the brakes working. However, the little clamp that kept the piece of metal attached would sometimes break — and you would be brake-less. That’s probably what happened, and all you needed was either a new clamp, or some wire that you could use to tie the doohickey to the frame. Really high tech, huh. 🙂
(un)relaxeddad
$10! Still sounds quite a lot (channeling my inner nine year old here, admittedly). I never actually learned to ride a bike properly (wasn’t allowed out very far, didn’t have any neighborhood children to run with – or I might have done but prob wasn’t allowed to. I wonder if never really getting to grips with a bike has affected my never learning to drive?
Autumn's Mom
I don’t remember my first bike, but I do remember the year my grandparents bought be a bike, I was so surprised when they lifted out of the back of their car! I think I was 6 or 7. I had lots of good years bike riding. I’m glad you guys still do!
Michelle at Scribbit
You flying over the car door? What a picture. And speaking of pictures I love how you have them looking like Polaroids. Adds to the flavor of the post.
Linda Atkins
Lovely adventurous memories! I like the pictures, too. (I must here put in a plug for bike safety skills classes taught by lots of local cycling organizations. I signed up for mine through the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition and learned so much. I’d been getting around by bike for 20 years and thought I knew all there was to know, but taking this class really changed the way I was riding, for the better.)
Donna
What an awesome story. I remember all of my bikes – from the tricycle all the way to now. Mine were always hand-me-downs from my sister. Until I went off to college. I saved up my money and bought a sky blue 10 spd racer!!! (hey that was cool back in ’81) Oh the wipeouts I had in college with that bike…
J
Ted, that totally makes sense about the brakes, because I’m pretty sure they worked when I first got the bike…but by the time it was the coolest bike on the block, it was brakeless. 🙂
Unrelaxed Dad, $10 was a ton of money! This was 1975, and the only time we ever got our hands on that much cash was if our Grandparents sent us some.
Jimmy
Ha, that reminds me of that old 60’s song “Brand New Key”
“I ride my bike, Roller skate, Don’t drive no car!!!!!LOL!!!!
jMo
Seventy five cents? What were you, millionaires?
Cherry
Ahh the freedom of the bike!
I love your determination to learn and how you loved that bike regardless of the embedded gravel. OUCH!
--Deb
I still remember my first bike … as in, the first bike that was mine and not a hand-me-down from my sister. I was 9, it had 3 speeds, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever!
Oh, and incidentally, I just awarded you a Premio Dardos award … come see!
V-Grrrl
I had a bike JUST LIKE YOURS. My first bike, a hand me down. Being the youngest of SIX, it had seen a lot of riders. No training wheels either. The seat was actually worn out and the springs partially exposed. My dad covered it with a rough piece of burlap and tied the burlap down with twine. Looked like something off the Beverly Hillbillies. When I was learning to ride and falling off endlessly, my britches would get caught on the exposed springs, which always worked their way through the burlap seat cover. I tore more pants that way. Made my mom so mad….
lalunas
Cool, those pictures are treasures. I bet Maya was really interested to see her Mama when she was a wee-little one. I love to read the adventures of Julie and Bike.. You looked so cute.
Mozi Esme's Mommy
I also had to learn on a hand-me-down without training wheels! And I rode in the church yard next door…