Such wonderful memories of bicycles. Enjoyed them all. When I was growing up, my Dad bought a bicycle built for two. What a novelty! We had kids from all over the neighborhood knocking on our door to borrow it for a jaunt around the block. My Dad never refused. One summer afternoon, my good pal, Janny, and I took a ride to the local “Posty” to buy some penny candy. I was the driver. Half way to the store, I spotted a dollar on the pavement. Not one to pass that kind of money up in 1968–I hopped off to secure the cash. When I looked up, my pal was screaming in terror on the back of the bike as it careened down the road. I wanted to feel terrible, but I knew that money would fill our pockets with bbats, fireballs and spree! I miss that wonderful tandem.
I can vividly remember my father holding onto the seat of my bicycle and running alongside of me - eventually letting go. That thrill of freedom, autonomy, wind and sun, adventure - my bike took me not only to physical places, but spiritual communion with nature as well. Today at 66, I still have that deep connection, that awesome inner child who enjoys attacking hills, feeling the wind in her face, hearing the birdsong, talking to the trees, admiring the ease of swans gliding on the river. When I arrive back home, I am sweaty and full of gratitude. Riding my bike is my prayer.
Such wonderful memories of bicycles. Enjoyed them all. When I was growing up, my Dad bought a bicycle built for two. What a novelty! We had kids from all over the neighborhood knocking on our door to borrow it for a jaunt around the block. My Dad never refused. One summer afternoon, my good pal, Janny, and I took a ride to the local “Posty” to buy some penny candy. I was the driver. Half way to the store, I spotted a dollar on the pavement. Not one to pass that kind of money up in 1968–I hopped off to secure the cash. When I looked up, my pal was screaming in terror on the back of the bike as it careened down the road. I wanted to feel terrible, but I knew that money would fill our pockets with bbats, fireballs and spree! I miss that wonderful tandem.
I can vividly remember my father holding onto the seat of my bicycle and running alongside of me - eventually letting go. That thrill of freedom, autonomy, wind and sun, adventure - my bike took me not only to physical places, but spiritual communion with nature as well. Today at 66, I still have that deep connection, that awesome inner child who enjoys attacking hills, feeling the wind in her face, hearing the birdsong, talking to the trees, admiring the ease of swans gliding on the river. When I arrive back home, I am sweaty and full of gratitude. Riding my bike is my prayer.