Some of us never get over bicycles. I love the things -- love looking at them, love touching them, love working on them, love riding them. At seventy two, I can't always remember the faces or names of the people from my childhood, or the houses I lived in, but I can remember with startling clarity each and every bicycle I ever owned. I think it's because for some of us, the bicycle was the first "freedom horse," the first tool which expanded our horizons, the first means by which we could escape human limitations.... even the first liberating mechanism which we could utilize to nullify parental control. I remember as a very young child organizing an expedition to "my Aunt Mary's house," with a gang of similarly aged urchins, all of us mounted on a clap-trap assortment of bicycles. We were going to "my Aunt Mary's house" because she had good things to eat....and the distance was probably over fifteen miles on county roads. We were soon up and moving along well, but unfortunately the expedition got intercepted by my father in his Chrysler Airflow coming home for lunch. He was not happy, and turned us all around and sent us home. But the seed had been planted; and I've been leaving home ever since.....teach your child to ride a bike, and he or she is already half gone..... Learn to ride a bike, and the world is yours.