Apparently when I was a small child my parents gave me a tricycle. While riding it around I ran off the curb fell and hit my face pretty hard. Knocked out a couple of front teeth.
So my mother wouldn't let me ride that tricycle anymore. No problem since I can't remember it anyway.
When I was about 7 my father was doing something down in the garage and I wasn't allowed to go down there. When my birthday arrived, he took me outside and showed me a balloon tired Rollfast that he'd found somewhere and reconditioned.
It was far too big for me but he put me on the saddle and gave me a push up the sidewalk.
I was flying! The feeling of riding that bicycle was so intense that it was almost orgasmic! I had to lean back and forth over the top tube to pedal the bike. I turned out a driveway, did a u-turn and rode back to the house where my father caught me and I could get off. These days I'd probably be run over by a car but in '52 or so cars weren't much of a problem.
Then it was almost misery since he told me that the bike was too big for me and it would have to stay in the garage until I was big enough. Strangely enough by the next summer it was just the right size and eventually it was sort of small.
But that feeling of being released on two wheels is with me today after 55 or so years. Every time I get on a bicycle I have a little of that same feeling. It's something I love and can't live without. I love to just look at bicycles. Working on them is heavenly. And riding them supplies a surcease from life's less than admirable qualities and makes you believe in life again.
Whoever invented the bicycle is sitting at the right hand of God this very minute and being told by everyone that walks through those Pearly Gates that he made a difference.