Fifty Plus (50+) - What is your earliest Bicycling Memory

I know most of us can't remember more than 30 minutes ago, but what is your earliest bicycle memory.

I remember 1954 (or 55) I'm 6 or 7 , my aunt giving me her 'Gasp" girls bike, and riding it down our steep gravel drive way, about 200 yards. I was in second grade. I took a broom handle, cut it and tried to make it into a boys bicycle. Yep you guesed it, No Go- I didn't have bar clearance. I had to stand up to pedal, seat in full down was too high.

I was deprived as a child since I never got to ride a trike, lived on a farm way back in the sticks, too impractical.

My 7th birthday present, 1959. A red and white CCM Imperial Mk IV single speed coaster-brake bike with 20 in wheels. In those days, kids were generally allowed by their parents to ride pretty much anywhere. We rode on city streets and roads since there weren't any sidewalks anyway. What were then new suburbs are now almost inner city neighbourhoods. I remember riding on streets that I would think twice about riding on now as a 54 year old. The most popular kid's bike accessory back then was an actual siren that attached to the front fork and was driven by the front wheel (like a dynamo). The faster you went, the louder it was. Some older kids were lucky. They had some of these super fast 3-speed "racers". 10-speeds were still years away. Racing bikes existed, of course, but nobody every saw one of those. Occasionally, you might see some kook on a balloon tire bike, but adults riding bicycles were a pretty rare occurrence.

It was 1956 or 57. I was 5 or 6. I kept trying to ride my cousin's bicycle on dirt street in Odessa, Texas till I reached the point I could balance and pedal. I could only stop by crashing. I remember I got in trouble for tearing up my good pants. I consider it the day I learned to (balance) ride a bike.

Summer 1953 I'm age 8. Was interested in learning to ride a bike. My older sisters each had a 26" balloon tire blue bike, but they were too big for me. A class mate, Richard Fritz, lived 2 blocks down the street and had a 20" bike. He wasn't particularly interested in riding it and loaned it to me for a couple days. I apparently was still too short for even a 20" bike as I remember leaning the bike again a stone wall a few houses from Richards so I could get on bike. I had nobody helping or directing me. Pushed myself along with my right hand pushing on the wall and eventually pushed off the wall and I was riding!! Spent the next few hours getting better. Don't recall ever falling that first day; but the joy of learning to ride may have erased any falls. Believe I borrowed that bike a few days. Eventually was able to ride a sisters bike and Christmas of 1953 I got my Rollfast. The photo is all that remains of the Rollfast, and like wise Richard has also pasted.

http://freepages.family.rootsweb.com/~bierhaus/RollFasttt.jpg

I have two memories from childhood.
I am the youngest of 5 brothers, my dad asks my older brother if he wants the hand me down bike, he whines about it. I take it when they are not looking, it is too big for me and no training wheels. My feet can't reach the pedals when they are at the bottom of the stroke. I prop it up against the car and take off. By nightfall I am riding that bike pushing the pedal down as far as I could and draging it up to the top on the top of my other foot so I could get it around for another stroke. I was 4 or 5 years old. Rode that bike until I was 13.

My other memory was flying down my friends drive way which had a blind entrance - this must have been about age 6. I met a early 50's Buick (It had a big chrome strip down the side). I made a quick turn and the Buick held her course, my hand got wedged between that chrome strib and the grips - took the meat off my left ring finger, still have the scar to this day. I suspect the driver dropped a load in his pants. One of a very few times in my life where it probably should have been my last minutes.

I was maybe 5 years old in 1959 when my Dad taught me how to ride a bike. The bike was probably a 20 inch coaster brake bike. It had been handed down from my two older brothers.

I still remember my Dad pushing me by the seat down the sidewalk and me saying, "Don't let go!" and him saying "I won't." Soon I was pedaling away down the street and heard him shout from a couple houses back, "Brake!" Too late, crash.

I rode that bike for another 5 years until my Mom ran over it while pulling into the garage. It was a great bike! I wore out many baseball cards by sticking them into the spokes.

Early 60's. I was 5 or 6. My girlfriend had a bike with training wheels she let me borrow. She was older and could ride a different bike without training wheels. I asked her how long it took her to learn to ride without training wheels. She said, "about a week." I gasped thinking a week was waaaay too long for me to learn to ride without training wheels.

My earliest bicycle memory is from riding up and down the sidewalk in front of my Aunt and Uncle's house in Craig Missouri from what must have been 1957. Craig is a dink of a town in NW Missouri, in the Missouri River floodplain. My dad owned the hardware store, and my Uncle was the town doctor, his wife was the nurse. My grandparents lived at the end of the block. My cousins were younger than me and they still rode tricycles. My bike was an upgrade from a scooter that I started out on.

It was a nice place for early childhood. I can remember being at other friend's house who had a son several years older than me and listening to him play "One eyed one horned flying purple eater" over and over again on a record player that he had in his bedroom. Times are much different now, not nearly so bucolic or safe for our grandchildren as they were for us. A sad loss.

My folks bought me a bike that was WAY too big. The took the seat off and wrapped a towel around the seat tube, and I rode on that for about 2 years until I grew enough to put the seat on.

I guess their frugalness is why the pants they bought me when I was 6 are the ones that fit me when I was 12.

About 1957. I'm maybe four. Teenager from down the block goes riding past as I stand in our front yard and he's PEDALING BACKWARDS. The big English bicycle is rolling forward and yet his feet are whizzing around the wrong way. He smiles and waves. I was fascinated because this was impossible. My trike did not do that. Wow.

One of the few memories I have when I was five is my first tricycle. As I recall it was tan and marroon. I believe it was a "Mercury". I used to try to keep up with the older kids on the two wheel bikes and crashed frequently. Hmmm, some things never change.

1964. Pink Schwinn Sting-Ray. Flying down the hills with a playing card clothespinned to the spokes.

It was a junky orange bike with 24" wheels. I was 5 years old (1956) and my big brother kept pushing me down a hill in our back yard until I figured out how to keep it upright. :)

I remember having a nice tricycle at about age 4. We also had a driveway and a cement sidewalk that ran around half of our house, running up to all three of our doors. I remember flying around that sidewalk over and over again.

We also had a red child's tractor that was powered by pedals and I was riding that at 4 & 5 too.

Then I got a little 16" bike at 6 or so, I remember riding it with training wheels on and I still remember my first successful ride (and some falls along the way) without the training wheels. Later came the wild rides down a nearby hill, with baseball cards in the spokes.

1959 or so. Red bike with a "tank" that held two batteries that powerd a light. Crashed that thing more times than I can count, but always got back on it. Funny, I have no recollection of where that bike went when I "graduated" to a Honda trail 55.

First memory actually is not a very good one. About age 5 or 6 riding down the hill in the street in front of the house on a hand-me-down 20" coaster bike. Rember waving to my Mom as a car pulled out from a side street. Looked up and all I saw was the front of a car heading straight for me! Mother and everyone screaming at me and the car driver. I swerved and the car stopped.

No damage but I think I got grounded for a while. Must be why I like the South Park character, Butters. He is always getting grounded.

Although not my first memory of biking, I remember crashing in fourth grade riding to school. The older kid next door slid his gym bag across the road at me when I rode by, and he hit my front wheel and down I went. I know I could locate the picture of me looking really sullen, with a swollen face, cut lip, and my right hand in a cast. I can still feel the bent metacarpal.

Thanks for bringing back the memories, Red Baron. And guyblerhaus, that's a great picture. Remember those book racks that clamped down with a spring to hold your school books?

One of my memories has to do with being about 12 or 13 years old, and deciding one day to take a "long" ride all the way out to Eastgate (an early version of a strip mall). It was seven miles away -- and I'd never ridden that far yet. Got there fine, but on the way home, it began to rain buckets. No choice but to keep going. I was so proud of myself for having ridden 14 miles all by myself, on major streets, and through the rain.

Other memories include using my bike for my paper routes, riding my bike back and into the woods to make forts with my buddies so we could play "war", jumping off a bike and just letting it fall where it was, and knowing no one would take it.

When the first English racer appeared in the neighborhood, I was blown away.

Not my first memory, but I'll always remember the day (age 6??) my dear Dad took the training wheels off my 20 inch bike and off I went - free and "grown up."

My brother gets a bike for his 8th birthday (we had to be 8 before we could get bikes). I was 6. Oh, I wanted to learn how to ride that thing, so he and his buddy offered to "teach me".

Got me up on the bike, I couldn't reach the pedals. One on each side of me, they pushed me as hard and fast as they could and let go. A wild ride for about 5 seconds, then crash.

Kept at it and finally, with a smaller bike I learned how to pedal and ride it around a circular farm drive. Man, that was one of my peak memories in my life!

I got straight A's for the last two grading periods in 3rd grade, so my parents gave me a second-hand bike -- balloon-tired, spray-painted green -- it was fabulous! A real big bike! I don't remember the size, have no idea of the make, but oh! The places I went with that!

The second most vivid memory is that same summer, an older kid lent me his "English Racer." I was on my tip-toes at the bottom of the pedal stroke, and it had the skinniest tires! It was my first experience with caliper brakes and I found out why I liked my girl's bike better. :eek:

I remember very clearly my first bike. I must have been 4, because I hadn't started Kindergarten yet. It was one of those solid rubber tire jobs with no freewheel. I had training wheels. One day I noticed I couldn't corner well. Had Dad take 'the trainers off. He gave me a push and I crashed. I got up, he gave another push, and I found "IT." That sweet balance spot. Ahhhhhhhhhh. I miss that bike. I complained that it was a fixie wih no brake, but now I want a fixie.

Lots of festering scabs from the gravel streets.

Guess my dad influenced by choice of bikes at about 7. He bought me a 10 speed English racer style bike, with drops. Been my favorite style bike ever since. I recall the hassle I had getting used to no training wheels. He was a very patient teacher. Thanks dad.

Lots of festering scabs from the gravel streets.

Those are my earliest motocross memories.

Which shouldn't be surprising since my earliest cycling memory is the day we took the training wheels off. My dad launched me down a hill--a pretty steep one--and straight into a tree.

With incentive like that, it wasn't long before I figured out how to steer and brake.

Lots of festering scabs from the gravel streets.

I remember those too. Being in West Virginia, there were hills everywhere. The closest to my house was on a lightly traveled rural paved road. It plunged down a steep grade, I'd guess 9%-10%, and had an 80 degree curve at the bottom. Did I mention there was always a little gravel strewn across that curve? I can remember flying off my bike into that ditch (and fence) a few times. Really got beat up a couple of times.

With 3 brothers and 4 other boys in the neighborhood, we were always trying to see who could go down that hill the fastest.

I believe I was in about 4th grade and the bike was possibly a 20" Rollfast. A bunch of us from the street used to ride up the street to Barringer Road. The biggest hill around and it ended in a T at the bottom. We used to climb it using the weaving back and forth method, then come screaming down and see who could take the 90 degree turn at the bottom without touching the brakes.

The great thing is that earlier this summer I took a trip back there and took my bike with me. You guessed it, I rode to Barringer Road and did the same thing at 57 years old. It's still steep.

Crashing into an getting wrapped up in the barbed wire fence at the end of the farm road.

Lesson: wet road brakes (grass in road) don't work as well as dry ones.

Lesson: some lessons are learned much faster than others and last longer.

I'm not sure how old I was (probably 5-6), but I certainly remember my first bike. It was a red Huffy, and I got my first taste of two-wheeled freedom. I used to ride it to my grade school, and even remember the bike shop where we would get it worked on.

My next major bike memory was coming out on Christmas morning and finding a brand new black Raleigh "English bike" under the tree. This was a major upgrade with a 3-speed hub, hand brakes, and lights powered by a generator that engaged off the rear tire. I rode it from then up until I was almost 16, at which time it was stolen at a shopping center. Since I was about to get my driver's license, I didn't really miss it much after the initial shock wore off, and I didn't ride a bike again until I was in my 30s.

Lots of festering scabs from the gravel streets.

Yep, I remember my first case of gravel rash, too. And that was back when first-aid consisted of applying lots of iodine. Yee-owww!

My earliest bicycle memory was at age 4, watching my older brother pedal away from the house, down the sidewalk and around the corner and realizing that a bicycle was freedom.

I spent many hours pushing my brother on his bicycle. That was the only way I could go places with him.

Then in 1st grade at age 5 1/2, I checked out Curious George Rides a Bike. I wanted to learn how to fold a paper boat, making it the first technical reference book I ever checked out. But in reading the book, I was inspired by George. I went over to Katy Bissell's house and asked her to borrow her bike. No fool, I realized it would be easier to learn on a girls bike. She and a friend were playing so she didn't mind. I spent an hour and a half in her driveway, teaching myself to ride it.

Several months later on my birthday, my Dad got me a bicycle. A 24" bike that was way too big. It was so big that I needed pedal blocks to reach the pedals and the only way to dismount was by jumping off. It was a green Fleetwing, with a fake gas tank and aluminum fenders. The tires were narrower than all the other kids Schwinns, and sadly, the gearing was like one tooth lower than them. So when my friends and I would ride to the hobby store, they would all be pedaling in unison, and I would be pedaling furiously to keep up. After a rough start, it became my freedom machine. I pedaled way beyond the limits my parents set, crossing bridges, going for miles down major highways. I "pedaled too far". Eventually the bike got ape hanger handlebars and a new paint job of yellow house paint. Then, one day, out of a rack of about 200 bikes at school, it disappeared, never to be seen again.

Yep, I remember my first case of gravel rash, too. And that was back when first-aid consisted of applying lots of iodine. Yee-owww!

I had forgotten about the iodine! Thanks, Doug.

It was the beginning and end of my racing career. I was 6 years old in April 1962, just having learned to ride my 20 inch 2 wheeler, and I had the other kid beat as we approached the turnaround at his house. Nobody had taught me to put my foot out to break a fall, so I fell hard in the turn and broke my leg. :(

Maybe that's why I'm very careful with my clipless pedals, and have not fallen off a bike since that day.

When the first English racer appeared in the neighborhood, I was blown away.

I remember those "English Racer" bikes. (Sheldon Brown disdanes that term). There were 2 Raleighs and one Peugeot in our neighborhood. Those guys cleaned our clocks every time we raced.
In my yard sale travels, I've picked up a really nice Raleigh Sport 3 speed. Its amazing that we considered those 3 speeds fast when comparing them to the most basic road bikes of only a few years later, the 70's Peugeot UO-8 or Raleigh Record or the Schwinns of the day.
But compared to my childhood balloon tire, single speed, that Raleigh Sport was a land rocket.

1956.

Small Town USA.

Daddy Coyote got hold of a 30's-era 26" steel bike that our Norfolk and Western Station Master had used before he upgraded to a motor scooter.

I took it to the top of the hill out back and used a cinder block to mount it. After several experiments, I got upright. . .and down through the back yard and snaged a willow sapling Daddy Coyote had been nursing along all Spring. Jerked the willow clean out of Mother Earth and fell headlong at the feet of. . .of course. . .Daddy Coyote [aka. The Lord of Discipline and Battle of the Bulge Veteran] who took no prisoners alive after Malmedy, including even his kith and kin. In a Triumpth of Irony, willow was his favorite instrument of corporeal punishment. . .and he found some stuck handily in the front wheel.

I was so proud of myself for having ridden 14 miles all by myself, on major streets, and through the rain.

Didn't you post that about one of your rides just before you got Ruby?:D

One of my earliest memories was breaking my arm while playing "The Cooler King" (Steve McQueen in "The Great Escape"). Prior to that was my Dad getting me a three speed English racer that I couldn't reach the pedals on.

Delivering newspapers on my bike in the 60's. pedaling up hill with a full load of papers when my foot slips off the pedal and I meet the bike at that special intersection!:eek:

It was 1963 or 64 and I was 8 or 9 years old.

My family and I lived in Djakarta, Indonesia and we were on vacation on the island of Bali .

We stayed in wooden huts with grass roofs. The first “western’ hotel was being built about a mile away. The island had a beauty and serenity that made it seem like a precious secret that would soon to be divulged to the world.

My best friend was on vacation with us and we wanted to see the island by bike. My mother arranged for us to ride with a guide on rented bikes.

The bikes were like old sturdy plow horses and didn’t really fit us too well but that didn’t deter us. We rode all day and I have no idea how many miles we went but I do remember riding through rice patties, small villages and along the white sand beaches. It was incredible.

The only down side to the ride was that we were both saddle sore and I had to broach the subject of my raw bum with my mother in order to get some relief.

I haven’t thought about that trip in so many years that I feel as if I have been given a gift being reminded of it.

Thanks for starting the thread Red Baron.

Ride safe

riversiderider

It must have been about 1967 or 1968 when I was a strapping lad of 10 or 11 and had never ridden a bike. I was from an area of town where the hills were too steep for anyone to own bikes, since they weren't very practical for local kids to use.

One day, my family was visiting with friends at a mobile home park in the country, and they had a stingray type bike that the kids were taking turns riding around, and I got a chance to ride, and after a few timid circles around the trailer park, it seemed like second nature... no spills, just smooth sailing.

The other kids, who got to ride the bike all the time, quickly tired of riding and went inside, so I was riding in circles, and decided to play daredevil. I rode into a depression in the gravel driveway and decided to try to pop a wheelie as I pulled out of the depression... My morning of mishap free riding came to an abrupt end when my elbow scraped the ground to complete that climactic moment of the morning's ride. :o

The readers of this forum are the first to know that it was not just a normal first time rider falling instead of a first time rider doing something stupid... And it only took me 40 years to 'fess up!!! :)

Riding a tricycle in a neighbor's basement. I was probably 3 or 4 at the time.

Don't remember the bike, but I was about 5 or 6 and was learning to ride. We had a small hill in our side yard, and I would get on the bike at the top of the hill, and someone would push me down the hill. I remember rolling down the hill trying to pedal like mad, and curving off to one side and crashing in the grass.

Eventually I had a red Schwinn with a fake "tank" around the top tubes, and a chrome headlight on the front of it. I rode that one until it became a hood ornament on the front of a Buick - I bailed just in time, but that's another story.

I then got a green (as I remember) 3-speed "English Racer" (excuse me, Sheldon) that I think I paid $25.00 for it. I could never get the rear hub adjusted just right, as it would skip in either first or third gear - never could figure out which was worse!

Must have been about 3 and for Christmas I got a Real Tricycle. Steering at the front and the pedals worked by a chain to the rear wheels- A real bike. A year later and painted a different colour it was my sisters bike as I had got a proper 2 wheeled bike and it never had training wheels. Dad just took me down to the park- so I could fall on the grass and away I went.

Back to When I started Cycling again and All I wondered was why the 9 year olds were so fast on a trip we took them on- 14 miles for an ice cream and 14 miles back

Tricycles count?

I was riding around in a tight little circle on a red and white tricycle my Dad had refurbished from something somebody else had thrown out. I was bent forward over the handlebars watching my feet turn the cranks and make the wheel go around.

On one revolution, I stopped, banged on the side of the trailer house with my hand and my mother came to the door. I asked her why they had shot the President.

She said she didn't know.

I went back to riding in tight little circles.

I remember reluctantly leaving the 999th (according to my brothers) playing of "Iddy Biddy Buddy" on the box-like record player to go outside and be given my first 2-wheeled bike with training wheels. Sometime later, I graduated to a dark blue fat-tired Western Flyer with a tension book rack on the back, white wicker basket on the front, and blue & white glitter "streamers" on the handlebars.

My first memory is not too remarkable, just run-of-the-mill stuff about riding a 16 inch wheeled kids bike on gravel country roads at about age five.

Here's a small piece written about me at age ten that I posted to another thread earlier this year:

Flying down the Irma Rd. hill in about 1952 on my heavy double top tube homebuilt frankenbike, with a Whizzer motorbike front wheel, was great sport. One day while showing off for the approval of a young lady, her dog ran directly in the path of my front wheel. I went over the bars superman style and landed on my chest and face at about 20mph on the hard packed gravel. The girl was more worried about her dog than me. It took all summer to pick the small bits of gravel out of my chin and nose.

I still ride on Irma Rd. occasionally and think about that day. I still remember the girl's name. I'll bet she doesn't remember mine.

I still remember my Dad teaching me how to ride a bike when I was a kid. Honestly, I really don't remember exactly how old I was, maybe seven, eight? I learned on the weekends (when I wasn't with my Mom) in the parking lot of his apartment complex. A couple of other choice memories are when I was racing a neighborhood buddy and I rode straight into a thorn bush. Then another good one was when I got my first geared bike...I was so interested in how the gears worked while the bike was moving...I ran into a tree. :D

My first bike had the hard rubber tires. Going down a hill in VA and hitting the curb. That caused me to go over the handlebars and slide on the sidewalk face first. Nose was the last thing to heal.

Older bro's in 8th grade. I'm in first. Bro's riding me to school on his bike with me sitting side-saddle on the bar. We're zooming down the ally and as we pass the a-hole neighbor kid he jams a stick into the front spokes. We go down and that's all I remember.

I had a little tricycle with the front tire missing. I rode around on the rim. I learned to ride a two-wheeler on my sister's bike. A "fixie", but small. I can remember my dad running along side me on the side walk holding on to the seat. I repeated the same action with my two daughters. Never had training wheels.

I was in grade school in 1957 or so and had the typical clunky bike with the "gas tank", fenders, etc. I rode that thing to school every day, it was about a half mile there. On the way home I would get going as fast as I could when my house was in sight and come screaming into the driveway and slam on the coaster brake from waaay out there. As I skidded up to the porch, I would hop off the bike while it was still going, it would end up leaning up against the porch step, and I would end up running across the porch never having stopped, and roar right up to the TV to watch the afternoon cartoons. Man, now that was fun!