Thanks for your stories.
I think we are all trying to keep that early magic strong.
It must have been Christmas of 1962 and Santa brought me a beautiful red and white Schwinn that I remember thinking was too big for me. It looked really big to me. I think when I expressed this it gave my old man a real twist but he talked me into trying it anyway.
Well of course I went about 10 feet before I had my first crash and I refused to get back on that big bike.
Pop bought a small bike second hand I learned to ride and quickly out-grew.
I was soon riding that red and white Schwinn all over my ever increasing range from age 7 to 11 when we moved from flat Jacksonville, FL to hilly Augusta, GA. As desperate financially as my parents were they bought me (well Santa brought me - even though it was understood by all concerned parties at this juncture he was a convenient fiction) a Raleigh English Racer with a 3 speed SA hub. State of the Art! I delivered papers, increased my circle of friends, nearly was killed by car because I wasn't paying attention and thank Goodness the driver was, had what can only be termed epic rides of nearly 5 or 6 miles down long hills and up even steeper ones on the way back from exotic and strange neighborhoods where people lived differently than I did.
The freedom, adventure and self reliance experienced with those two early bikes are part of my core being.
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