Story Time
This attached photo was taken when I was about 6. This was MY first bike. We had family bikes, bikes we all rode, but this one was my bike. My first.
My father brought it home because someone had abandoned it (aka thrown it out) along the railroad tracks at Griffiss Airforce base where he worked. When he brought it home my older brother Dan---who the bike was intended for---was not impressed and actually thought it was ugly and ridiculous. It had thin white tires, English style hand breaks and the bike was a foreign bike. He hated it. I could not contain how much I loved it so I begged and pleaded to get my father to patch the tires for me even though everyone said, "But you are way too small to ride this thing!"
As you can see, the top bar is definitely too tall for my little legs so the ONLY way I could ride it was I had to start off by standing on our porch then step out over and straddle the bike and start to peddle, then ride around till I found a neighbor's porch of the right height so I could ride up to it, stop, and put my leg onto the porch in order to get off the bike without falling.
I loved this bike. It was a 20 inch bike. Which is pretty small. You can see how small I am by the fact I am basically standing BEHIND it and it comes up pretty high on me. You may be able to sense how happy I am and proud of this bike. (Notice the patched knees, I think there were many times I did not quite make it successfully to a neighbor's porch).
Recently on Craigs List I found a bike that resembles the look and feel of this bike in so many ways. (it is the second attached photo). I had to get it and I have indeed been riding it and it has transported me back to that joyous six year old you see in this photo.