Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Where and How Did You Learn to Ride a Bike?
I remember vividly how I did. I pestered my Grandad Ramey into buying my horse for the amount that a new bike cost and I ordered it from Sears and Roebuck Catalog. It was beautiful. Bright blue with a headlight, basket, and tail reflector. We lived up a lane that had a SMALL hill from the house down to the County Line. I would get on the bike and head down the hill. Now, keep in mind that there was a barbed wire fence on one side of the lane. also, a yard light pole near the top. After I had mastered this great accomplishment, my sister, Gayle, our neighbors, Gail Jean and Elaine Bennett, also, learned in the same manner. Needless to say, by the time the four of us had learned how to keep upright and on a straight line, the "beautiful bicycle" was not so beautiful. It took quite a beating. Oh yes, I got my horse back, also. My parents were none too pleased with that little deal I made.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Reva, thanks for posting your story. It makes me remember my learning to ride the bike on the "good sidewalk" near our house in the western (straight with the world) part of CV. Keep posting. You have an audience.
Reminds me of my first AND ONLY bike. Living on the farm with money scarce, I'm sure mother and dad were quite pleased when they bought the used blue bike. They shined it up, tied a big ribbon on the handle bars and placed it by the front door as if it had been left by some passing stranger. Needless to say, my heart was pounding as I envisioned myself racing around the yard and sailing up and down the country roads.
My visions began to fade somewhat as I made numerous attempts to master the machine. Unable to keep the thing upright for more than a minute or two and several falls on the bars left me limping and out of commission for a day or so.
When I was ready to tackle the bike again, the tire was flat, sporting several sand burrs.
Mother was a champion at tire patching so I was soon back in business. This time I moved to the rough road in front of the house,( less sand burrs).
I finally mastered the art of bike riding, but was never able to sail down the rough country road (too many boulders and not enough gravel). After patching a bike tube every other day, I think mother was relieved when I finally parked the bike and took up roller skates. Didn't take me long to learn that roller skates couldn't sail very well in grass, sand burrs and gravel. Soon the roller skates were hung by the bike and I went back to my faithful horse "Johnny" who could run like the wind, sailing thru the sand burrs and over the rocky rough roads.
I don't remember when I learned to ride a bike--maybe it was from tricycle days when I careened around on two wheels. The first Bike (and last) I do remember it. A spiffy new Schwinn, black with cream accents. I got it for Christmas when I was 8 or 9 years old. I know we couldn't afford it but I assume I got it cuz a gave money to Mom that I recieved for donating a special kind of blood.
The bike got lots of miles around town and on frequent trips to the swimmin' holes on Cedar Creek and Big Caney. After a few years my desires centered on old clunker cars and the bike languished. I think we gave it to a family with more kids than money. Thanks for the memory jolt. I have many happy thoughts of places, people, and things that I encountered on my bike.
Oh,wow!
I can smell the smell of a bicyle in a bicyle shop in Sedan! My folks bought a bicycle for me! It was blue and white. Had a basket on the front, and handles, that I could envision coon tails sailing in the wind! Oh, what tales that bicycle could tell!
It could tell you of "running down" a school teacher, Marjorie Minor was her name. She moved left on the sidewalk to our elementary school. I thought she was moving right. I hit her. Not a good thing. I remember the tears in her eyes. I said, "I'm sorry." Not nearly enough, and I knew it. She was a tough, tough teacher. I always felt sorry for what I had done. Have you ever felt that way? To this day, I wish I could say, "I'm sorry!
Well, I still get on that bicycle.
I pedal. And, Margorie, if you are out there listening, let me it be known, that you were so very special!
Love You,
Don
Post a Comment