Riding my Bike

                                           Yosemite, Half Dome and me : )
 1/14/06

               Riding my bike made me feel so free.  For a bit of an effort peddling, I'd go places in a flash.  The block I lived on growing up had curbs that sloped down to the gutter rather than being built up where I had to either get off my bike or thump down hard on my tires to get into the street.  My whole street was like a driveway!  Or, now I would think it was all handicap accessible for wheelchairs. I don't know why it was that way, it was the only block in the area that was. Maybe it was the first curb made and they didn't know how to do it, or the last curb and there wasn't enough concrete left.  But whatever, it was unique.  Kids from blocks on either side would come to ride their bikes or skate up and down wherever they wanted.  After a while, I stopped paying attention to our special curb, because I preferred to ride other places.

            Sometimes I'd go for a long bike ride and then go climbing in the hills.  Sometimes I'd go up to local stores and look through the window displays.  Sometimes I'd go to the park or the little league fields and check out the games.  My bike took me to freedom.

         I could ride my bike with no hands (frequently).  Sometimes I'd go fast and stand on the seat and hold onto the handlebars.  But that was very tricky.  One time I filled my tire too full and watched a huge bubble emerge on the wall of the tire.  As I continued to ride it the bubble grew larger and burst and instantly the tire went flat.  I flipped over the handlebars and fortunately landed in the grass. I was oh so cautious after that about putting air in my tires.  

        My bike sped me away from barking dogs that chased me.  I rode fast, put my legs up and coasted. The dogs finally gave up and I peddled on.

        My bike had a kickstand.  Using the kickstand was an art.  Balancing the turn of the front tire against the fulcrum of the kickstand was a necessity.  In soft dirt or sand it was nearly impossible not to lay my bike down and feel defeated.  I did always try for a few times before I gave up,

       Changing the tire of a bike was both more and less complicated than it is now.  More because the tires didn't pop off with the flick of a holder.  Less because there were not so many complicated gears.  Even if the bike was 3 speed, the chain wasn't so complicated. 

      It was important though to make sure the back wheel was oiled.  I didn't know why.  Maybe this kept the chain oiled? There was a small cap on the hub of the back wheel that periodically needed to be opened and some oil put in.  The oil came in a small can with a long tube.  Bike tires today don't have this.  Still am wondering what that was all about back then.

      One of the regular runs my bike took me on was to Thrifty Drugs to read the new magazines and comic books when they came out.  Thrifty's  was another library for me.  I'd sit on the stacks and read all the new issues and remarkably no one ever said anything to me.  My blue Schwinn bike would be parked by the door where I could keep an eye on it.  The front wheel was turned and the bike leaned into the kickstand. 

      Sometimes several bikes would be parked in front of a store.  All would be unlocked.  They'd be leaning gracefully against their kickstands, reminding me of horses parked at a hitching post.  And sometimes I'd pretend my bike was a horse.

      At other times I'd flip my bike over to balance on the handlebars and seat. I'd use the front wheel as the wheel of a ship as I imagined sailing away.  At other times that same configuration led me to be a popcorn maker.  I'd turn the peddles and the back wheel would spin.  With the baseball cards secured in the spokes with clothes pins, the sound was of popcorn.  Mickey Mantle? Why did I ever think you sounded like popcorn? If I left you in my card stack, today I'd be able to make quite a few dollars on you!

**Talk about wandering.  Welcome to my mind.  To revise it, likely I would make at least a couple of memories out of it and delve deeper into each.  There seems to be stories about the joy of the bike and stories about the practical nature of my bike.  But then there's that one about putting the oil into the back tire.  What's that all about?   Writing is definitely a work in progress and a process.