bike

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.

Wheels

By the time I was in second grade, it seemed like all the town kids had bikes. I was wildly envious of them parking their bikes as I stomped off the bus like the clodhopper I was. Fortunately, bikes were off limits on the playground so I didn’t have to feel deprived about that.

Of course, as Christmas approached, I started in on Mother. I knew just what kind of bike I wanted, a blue Schwinn Spitfire. A realist, Mother let me know I definitely wouldn’t be getting a bike.

“Can’t Santa bring me one?” I asked.

“No, parents have to help pay for the things Santa brings. We don’t have the money.”

That cleared up all my questions about Santa Claus. I wanted to stamp my foot and say “Darn!” but I knew better.

Lou and Lynn Part 1 Memorable Moments: Riding Bikes with Grandma

Grandma was old and slow but could be cool sometimes. She was funny, always ready to play with Lou. Best of all, when Lou they got to spend the night together, Grandma told her stories. Not the “once upon a time kind” but stories about when Grandma was a kid. She must have been a cool kid from the tales she told. The stories went on until Lou went to sleep.


Grandma was horrible at video games, so one day they decided to find something else to do.
Once they got outside, Grandma was worried about riding a scooter. She poked along on an old bicycle, wobbling every time she hit a little bump. “Whoa! Don’t go off and leave me!” It was hard to ride that slowly. Lou rode in circles so Grandma could keep up.

They didn’t get too far before Grandma needed a break. It must be exhausting being that old. Lou was dizzy from the circling anyway. As they parked under a tree and dug into their snack bags, a bolt of lightning split the sky, Thunder crashed all around them. Soon, it was raining so hard they couldn’t see as far as the road. Lou wished she was safe at home with her parents.

Grandma was upset. “There was’t a cloud in the sky when we left! How did this pop up?”

”What are we gonna do? Lou asked. “I’m scared!”

”I don’t like it either” Grandma said. Just then, another ear-splitting crash of thunder rattled the sky.

The next thing Lou knew, she was picking herself up off the ground, surrounded by fallen pears. Grandma must have been scared and run off. Lou was surprised. She didn’t think Grandma could get out of sight that fast, The sun came out. As Lou looked around, a girl fell out of the tree, almost on top of her. She dusted off her shorts and picked up a couple of pears. “Wow! You have a bike. I wish I had a bike! Do you want a pear?”
Lou had never had a pear straight from a tree, nor even seen a pear tree.

“Nah! I’ve got a juice box and some grapes in my backpack.” When Lou looked around, neither her backpack nor Grandma was anywhere in sight.

”Where am I? Where’s my grandma? She was just here.” Lou was confused.

”You’re on my family’s farm and I never saw your Grandma. We’ll look around for her. What’s your name? I’m Lynn. Come on!”

“I’m Lou and I have to find Grandma I don’t remember being this far from town. There’s not even a real road here.” Lou kicked a rock out of the dirt road.

“Come on, Lou. It looks like a break in the rain! Let’s get in the barn before we get soaked!” Lynn took off running, her ponytail bouncing. Her bare feet kicked up a dust. How in the world could she run like than on rocks?

Rain pelted the girls as they dashed in the huge barn doors. As Lou’s eyes got used to the shadows, she saw dust dancing in the sunbeams in through the big open doors. The strange smell made her sneeze. Huge stacks of hay were stacked high up the barn walls, reaching all the way to the ceiling. A few big dog flop-eared dogs burst through the open doors, barking like the they were having a contest. Jumping up on the stairs steps of hay, they rolled around drying themselves off. A big one jumped on a couple of puppies like she was going to tear them apart!

”Stop them’” Lou yelled. “That big dog is going to hurt those puppies!” Lynn didn’t act worried at all.

”Nah. That’s their mama. She’s just teaching them some manners. Here puppies.” At that, the puppies bounced down like rubber balls, licking Lynn for all they were worth. “These silly guys always think I need a bath.”

By now, the rain was pounding the roof so hard Lou had to shout to make herself heard. “Is this a tornado?”

Lynn laughed.”No. It’s fine. Haven’t you ever heard rain on a tin roof?

To be continued

Broken Arm

Grandma lived near the Gulf Coast with my Aunt Cookie, Uncle Riley and Cousin Barbie. The long drive to their house was covered in crushed shells rather than gravel. Apparently, it had just been resurfaced, making it a bit challenging to maintain your footing, especially in areas where shell filled deep holes.

Barbie was one lucky kid. An only child, she never had to share. Her parents had never introduced the concept. Any time one of us approached a toy, she threw a screaming fit. Aunt Cookie and Uncle Riley backed her up, wishing we weren’t so selfish as to make precious little Barbie scream.

I’d never seen so many toys as Barbie had in her toy room. There was no furniture, nor toy box, just wall-to-wall toys, piling up along every wall and extending up a couple of feet in all four corners. There wasn’t a bare spot on the floor. After we’d tossed things around a few minutes, we’d even have the door blocked. A great deal of the time, we’d just be on a treasure hunt, digging up one amazing find after another. Billy would hold an incredible toy he’d just excavated and Barbie would run shrieking to try wrench it from his grip. Meanwhile, I’d unearth another jewel, causing her to abandon her earlier quest. We usually kept her running and screaming till she exhausted herself. Cookie would give us “the look” and hustle poor caterwauling Barbie off for some cuddling and consolation time. Cookie was always trying to stave off Barbie’s athsma, While Barbie slept it off, we partied.

On this particular day, while our nemesis slept her fit off, we prowled around and found a tiny, red bike with training wheels stowed in the garden shed. The hard rubber wheels were barely six-inches in diameter. It still sported training wheels. It was barely used. Cookie and Uncle Riley were wildly overprotective of their little angel and likely hid it after Barbie tipped over a time or two.

Billy, an overgrown eight-year-old, was far too big for the minuscule bike, but he gave it his best shot. He knees nearly bumped his chin as he tried to pedal through the deep shells in the drive.He bogged down as he struggled to move. Grandpa sat on porch dourly watching. “Boy, you’ gonna fall off an’ break yore alarm!”

Billy didn’t bother to answer, just struggled on. Bless Pat, if he didn’t dip into a hidden hole, take a dive, and lay howling on the ground. Sure enough, his arm was broken. To this day, he’s disgusted.

Goodwill Toward Kids At Christmas!

I was dying for a bicycle.  What I really wanted was a Spitfire, dark blue!  That had to be the most beautiful bike in the world.  However, I was a realist. I had heard my mother worrying over Christmas enough to know there would never be enough money for a new Spitfire.  That would have cost more than she had to spend for the whole family.   I would have been happy with anything of a reasonable size without training wheels.  It didn’t have to be new.  It didn’t have to have a horn.  It didn’t have to be blue.  I just wanted a bike.

My mother did make a mysterious trip to Goodwill in Shreveport before Christmas.  There is no way I could have missed knowing this.  She was a timid driver. “Driving in town” was a frequent topic of discussion among her group of friends.  The bolder ones proudly bragged, “I drive in Shreveport!”  Most of them “drove in Springhill.”  Mother didn’t mind “driving in Cotton Valley.”  It had businesses on two major streets, no parallel parking, and no parking meters.  A kid could drive a tricycle down Main Street undisturbed.Needless to say, Mother must have felt pretty pressed by our pleas for bikes to plan a trip to Shreveport.  She worried a lot that Goodwill might have parallel parking.  Finally, the big day came.  Though she was secretive about her purpose, I knew it had to be related to Christmas.  She even recruited a friend to babysit Connie and Marilyn, the only time I’d ever known her to do such a thing!

She left as soon as we were on the bus, not getting home till long after dark, unheard of for her.  There were no packages.  The next day, we stopped by Bud Hooten’s Hardware store where she bought a quart of sky blue enamel paint, some sandpaper, and a brush.  We took these to my Uncle Albert’s house.  He had a boy, Bobby,  staying with him.  While Mother drank coffee with Aunt Jewel, possibly the dullest woman on earth, Bobby came in, wordlessly took the bag from the hardware store, and disappeared.  Mother entertained no questions, so I knew it all had to be related to the trip to Goodwill and Christmas.

Christmas morning finally came.  The mystery was revealed.  Next to the tree stood two bikes of sky blue, a color never favored by Spitfire!  Draped across the handlebars of my bike hung a string of lollipops!  I was thrilled with my bike.  “Oh, I love it!  I love it!  This must be what you got at Goodwill!  I never thought I’d be able to get a bike for Christmas!”

At the mention of Goodwill, Mother’s face fell.  I never dreamed she’d think I’d believe this was a new bike!  It was obviously repainted with wear marks that a simple paint job couldn’t fix.

I tried to make her feel better.  “I love it. I knew we couldn’t ever get new bikes.  I just wanted a bike.

She recovered, somewhat, though still disappointed. “Oh, well, I’m glad you like it.  Now be careful.  As soon as it was daylight, we were off on those Goodwill bikes, riding the first of a million miles!