(I struggled a bit today to get something written and then choosing something "memorable" to write about was not easy)
I have had a long history of difficulties with the two-wheeled human powered vehicle known as a bicycle. There are many notable memories including: it took me a long time to learn to ride, I broke my arm riding my bike soon after leaning to ride, I almost got caught by my father riding my bike where I should not have been riding (and where I had been doing nefarious things), I rode into Manhattan from the city line in Queens (a pretty long ride), after getting married I discovered my wife could not ride a bike and we worked at getting her to know how, my older daughter learned to ride her bike quickly (oh how I worried!), and my daughters had bikes given and then taken away from them by a step dad somewhat because of me.
Today I live in Davis, CA which is arguably the Bicycle Capital of the United States of America. I have commuted to work at times and this spring I may finally get a new bike. I ride an old, used, 10-speed Nishiki, I have an old 3-speed Raulegh which was my ex-wife's, I have a heavy but good tandem bike, and I think there is another women's Nishiki here, too.
When I was about five years old I began to try to learn to ride a bicycle. All my friends tried and did learn to ride. I had several bikes of various sizes which my father either purchased or borrowed for me so as to help me learn. I used training wheels and there was a lot of help given to me. BUT I did not learn. The years passed and I did not know how to ride a bike while all my friends did ride and I had to try to run after them to keep up and I hate running, but that is another story! I lived in a surburban area of Queens which is a borough of New York City and kids walked to school. Bikes were not used for transportation as much as they were toys to play with. At least for five year olds, and six and seven and etc. year olds.
Just before my 9th birthday, which was in August, 1958, I had some time on my hands and I decided to learn to ride a bike!!! I essentially went into seclusion with my bike in a small parking lot and spent hours and days trying to stay upright while riding the bike on its two wheels. Finally! I could ride and I told my mother to come a watch which she did and she said after a little while - "So, can you make a turn?" WELL I could not at that time and so she left and I spent another couple of hours and days figuring out how to turn and turn and turn! By mid-July, 1958 I could ride a bike and turn it and stop it.
I then went off to camp for three weeks. When I returned home I got on my bike a rode. The bike was a cruiser type with coaster brakes operated by one's feet. All my friends would ride down this dirt hill and they had been doing that for a while. I rode down that hill, too, but it was a bit difficult for me as I was not very experienced and one day, in late August, 1958, I rode down that hill, lost control of the steering and speed, got my feet straight up and down so I could not apply the foot brakes and went into a wall! I cushioned the blow by stretching out my hands and thus broke my right wrist. By the way -- I had some trouble identifying my right from my left until I broke my right wrist! Even today I will look at my right wrist and say -- ah that is the right and therefore the other side is the left.
After hitting that wall I was hurt, my head was bruised, my wrist hurt and I left my bike and went home crying! My mother (mom's were generally home in those days!) knew something was especially wrong since I had left my bike at the site of the accident. This was the same hill and site where I had a snow-sledding accident a year or so earlier but then I brought my sled home (there was a friend who helped at that time and this bike accident happened when I was alone).
The hill and the wall are still there but some fencing has been erected since (many years later, I think) and so using that little hill for fun is not possible any longer.
My difficulty in learning how to ride a bike came to mind years later when my daughter Sarah began riding a bicycle. She started on a tricycle. She graduated to a two wheeler with training wheels and one day her friend took the training wheels off her own bike and started to ride on two wheels. This meant that my daughter needed to graduate off of the training wheels and I remember thinking, I hope she can, I hope she can, I hope she can!!!! I didn't share these concerns with Sarah and maybe not with her mom, either. The hour came when Sarah had me remove the training wheels and set her off on her own on just two wheels. AND SHE DID IT!! I was so proud and happy and relieved.
And now I am wondering -- how did Amy learn to ride a two wheeler and when? Maybe at about the same age as Sarah and without her father hiding any angst since Sarah had lead the way so well. I will have to ask her.
All the other memories about bicycles pale in comparison to the memories of learning how to ride. Here in Davis, CA, years later, I would begin wearing a helmet so to encourage my daughters to wear helmets. I wanted them to do as
I did not as I only said. In one occasion the helmet saved me from a big bump (or worse). I feel naked if I am sometimes riding without a helmet. I rarely do that. I think the last time I rode without a helmet was the evening I rode the tandem bike back from the fund-raising auction where I got it. That was an interesting ride since I had drunk several glasses of wine and I didn't have a helmet, but nor did I have a truck to bring this big bike home.
And so it goes.... Soon I may buy myself a brand new modern bike!
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