The Journey to My First Bike: A Childhood Story

Despite not getting a one fot Christmas, I was obsessed with learning to ride a bike. In case you didn’t know, kids with bikes aren’t interested in sharing them. I couldn’t just borrow an hour of “bike time.” I felt sure that the hard part was getting my hands on a bike, not the learning part.

Finally, my hopes were realized. My dad decided to visit an old Navy buddy. Conveniently, the family had three boys in my age range, each with a bike. I was in heaven. There was a bike available to me at all times. I didn’t waste the opportunity. I’d push a bike alongside a fence, or porch and push off. In my frantic determination to learn, I could actually ride by to evening of the first day. I spent the remainder of that trip in non-stop riding.

My parents were impressed that I’d learned to ride. My success made me even more desperate. The following Christmas, I actually got a bike! It wasn’t the blue Schwinn Spitfire I’d been hoping for but a perfectly adequate used bike with a new paint job and new tires. I was ecstatic! It was a bike! I felt like I’d been given wings.

24 thoughts on “The Journey to My First Bike: A Childhood Story”

  2. I’m impressed at how quickly you learned to ride a bike. I was slower, much slower. I remember the first time I wobbled on my brother’s bike in the front yard. My parents were shouting to turn. I yelled that I couldn’t. It was a miracle I was balancing, so I rode directly into a tree.

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    • I must have fallen dozens of times. A lot of times I rode adjacent to a hedge so I wouldn’t crash. I didn’t want to damage the bikes. I was riding one of the three boy’s bikes. Whichever I could grab. By the end of the day, I looked like I’d been through a battle.

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  4. Linda, you never cease to amaze!!! You are truly an incredibly strong person full of determination and it shows in your riding, your writing and your career as a nurse. you rock my friend.

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  6. My first bike was my mums old bike, it had blue paint chipping off and more rust than paint. Having cycled it to a neighbours house and my parents realising after my visit was over, I received a brand new mountain bike. My gosh I was in a thousand Christmases at once… much to my parents bemusement, I opted to cycle my friends brothers bike – a used BMX – as often as possible, ditching the brand new mountain bike for another hand me down!

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    • We love what we love. That bike meant freedom to me. Our nearest neighbor was a mile away. When we finished our work, we were free to roam our 120 acre farm but had to have permission to leave the place. Riding a horse or bike was such freedom.

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