Bikes: Episode I

I suppose my connection with bikes begins beyond my memories. My earliest memories go back to when I'd ride along with my dad on the top tube of his green three speed, which had perhaps the first version of "Gripshift". It wasn't a beautiful bike by any stretch but I always thought it was so cool that you could shift gears by twisting the hand grip, like a dirtbike. Dad would take me for rides as I sat on the bar between the seat and the handlebar. I remember vaguely how that bar was so hard and narrow like it could cut into my bony butt as we bounced along the pothole-filled gravel road past our yard. My balance teetered on the edge of falling off but I had faith in dad, and my white knuckled grip on the handlebars. It always seemed like he went a little too fast.

One fateful day we were heading towards town about a quarter mile from our house when in my attempts to keep seated on the skinny bar I kicked my leg out to keep balance and my foot got wedged in the spokes of the front wheel just behind the front fork. Well my foot was the best braking mechanism that bike had ever seen. The front wheel came to a stop before the bike did and as quick as the rear wheel could leave the ground me and my dad hit the ground. The gravel, as I found out, was no place for sliding skin. I remember crying hard, until my stomach muscles hurt from not breathing between screams. I think I cried that whole quarter mile walk home and well after that.

My mom said that I was around 2 or 3 years old and details are a little hard to recall. I do know that my dad felt terrible cause my mom didn't approve of my riding with him like that at such a young age. This story came up just a few weeks ago and my mom still had a little "scolding" in her voice towards dad. Obviously I wasn't hurt severely and learned to trust my dad again but I don't know if I ever rode on that bar with my dad after that. You might think this event would have scared me away from biking but as it turned out it didn't, and I spent many more painful evenings cleaning the gravel out of my skin from similar incidents on that gravel road as I rode my own bike a little too fast.