Last night I was chatting with Petey about our first bikes, and how your first bike isn't just a bike, it's a magic steed that opens up your world. Suddenly your world is bigger than your front porch, your yard. Now you can roam to the signpost up the hill and to the pine tree in Mrs. Martinez's front yard. Ask anyone about their first bike and their eyes get distant and they get a stupid happy look on their face.
See? You're doing it now, aren't you?
Well, it's my blog, so I'm telling first, then you.
I was four or five, and having declined a bigwheel, (remember those?) the closest thing to a bike I knew how to ride was my plastic horse. Did you ever have one of those? Four little wheels on a plastic horse, that you sat on and scooted along with your feet? Actually, I had two, and I couldn't bear the thought of one of them feeling left out, so I would ride one and drag the other along behind me by the plastic reins. My brother had discovered BMX bikes that year, like everyother kid on the block. We had a rather impressive set of ramps built in the back yard, and so all the older kids came to our yard. I would scoot my little horse, other horse in tow, over the ramps, getting in everyone's way, and it was only my homefield advantage that kept me from being forcibly removed, I'm sure.
This was one of the years of the 'Country House Debacle of '83-85', so we were in New Jersey at the time, and my brother and I had devoloped the habit of rising as annoyingly early as possible. Christmas morning was no expection, of course. We crept downstairs, Jesse in his termal pjs and pound puppy slippers, me in my zip-up footie pjs. Of all the presents, I remember two that year, my own set of pound puppy slippers, which I hugged delightedly, because I wanted to be just like my idolized older brother. And my bike. I remember it fondly because it was one of very rare times I remember my father taking TIME, not MONEY, to do something for me. He had it custom painted, because he didn't think I would like the pink color it came in. The color he painted it, a sparkly, purple, ghastly, tacky color, but I loved it because my dad actually took the time to think about me. It was all wrong, but it was an effort. It had a big sparkly banana seat, and streamers on the handle bars. A straw basket with flowers on the front, and best of all, one of those little bell things.
I was the bane of the neighborhood on that thing. I rode up and down the lenght of the block on it, and at one corner, the sidewalk was too narrow to turn around, so I just fell, picked up my bike, turned it around and rode back. Everytime. I got real good at falling, a trait that came in handy later when I got my first horse. Never occured to me to change my route. I fell with grace and style, sometimes with a roll, even. I had almost permanently skinned knees in those days.
Ok, I digress...........
Your turn now. Tell me about your first bike and why it was the best bike ever.
See? You're doing it now, aren't you?
Well, it's my blog, so I'm telling first, then you.
I was four or five, and having declined a bigwheel, (remember those?) the closest thing to a bike I knew how to ride was my plastic horse. Did you ever have one of those? Four little wheels on a plastic horse, that you sat on and scooted along with your feet? Actually, I had two, and I couldn't bear the thought of one of them feeling left out, so I would ride one and drag the other along behind me by the plastic reins. My brother had discovered BMX bikes that year, like everyother kid on the block. We had a rather impressive set of ramps built in the back yard, and so all the older kids came to our yard. I would scoot my little horse, other horse in tow, over the ramps, getting in everyone's way, and it was only my homefield advantage that kept me from being forcibly removed, I'm sure.
This was one of the years of the 'Country House Debacle of '83-85', so we were in New Jersey at the time, and my brother and I had devoloped the habit of rising as annoyingly early as possible. Christmas morning was no expection, of course. We crept downstairs, Jesse in his termal pjs and pound puppy slippers, me in my zip-up footie pjs. Of all the presents, I remember two that year, my own set of pound puppy slippers, which I hugged delightedly, because I wanted to be just like my idolized older brother. And my bike. I remember it fondly because it was one of very rare times I remember my father taking TIME, not MONEY, to do something for me. He had it custom painted, because he didn't think I would like the pink color it came in. The color he painted it, a sparkly, purple, ghastly, tacky color, but I loved it because my dad actually took the time to think about me. It was all wrong, but it was an effort. It had a big sparkly banana seat, and streamers on the handle bars. A straw basket with flowers on the front, and best of all, one of those little bell things.
I was the bane of the neighborhood on that thing. I rode up and down the lenght of the block on it, and at one corner, the sidewalk was too narrow to turn around, so I just fell, picked up my bike, turned it around and rode back. Everytime. I got real good at falling, a trait that came in handy later when I got my first horse. Never occured to me to change my route. I fell with grace and style, sometimes with a roll, even. I had almost permanently skinned knees in those days.
Ok, I digress...........
Your turn now. Tell me about your first bike and why it was the best bike ever.
1 Comments:
My first bike.... *starry dazed look* It was my 5th birthday and I still haven't figured out if the present of the latest bike style complete with horn, purple helmet, and shiny ribbons flowing from the handle bars was in honor of me turning 5 or a way of trying to bribe me to forgive them for the 6 month old brother my parents brought into this world without asking me first. *Resentful Glares* Anyway, My bike to me was a new way of getting to the wonderland I knew as Kindergarten without holding my mom's hand. Of course she followed close behind but just far enough to make me feel "grown up". I still have said mentioned bike.... It lives in my Attic. Her name was Hermia. How I adored her.....
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