I’ve been thinking about my early days. I remember seeing pictures of me riding my tricycle on the side walk of a newly built 30×30 GI Loan home around 1950. I must have been a excellent rider because not only are there pictures, but also action packed 8mm home movies of my expert riding.
I don’t really recall how or when I graduated from the trike to the bike. I do, however, remember a second hand, black and white Schwinn big tire tubed bike. I must have had training wheels on it because I recall the time without them and my father holding on to the seat to get me started down a small hill. I also recall how scared I was as I lost momentum and fell off skinning my knee! A few years later, probably for a birthday, I was the proud owner of a 3-speed “English” racing bike. I rode that bike everywhere. Long distances (but no more than 10 blocks), short distances, and up and down hills.
A couple of years ago, I found a couple of 10-speed bikes at a second hand store. Since my wife and were both experienced riders and the term, “you never forget how to ride a bike” floated between my ears, I purchased those bikes, in anticipation of significant senior healthful rides.. After all, what’s 60 years when it comes to biking. We took off, for the fun of the ride, claiming we’d begin with practice close to our summer home before setting off for the longer bike trail that crisscrosses our area. The hills turned out to be bigger than they used to be, and the low gears don’t seem to be as good as we needed for our quickly tiring knees. My wife’s asthma has become more prevalent in these years as opposed to her youthful days, which made peddling even more difficult.
The bikes lean up against the shed wall. Now our bikes await the arrival of visiting grandchildren.
I remember the days when I could ride my English racer anywhere.