In '71 at 11 I was hit by a car while riding my brother's generic sting-ray. Out of that deal, much to my brother's chagrin, I got a new Sears Free Spirit 10-speed. My parents' logic, as far as I can tell, is that I was riding my brother's bike because I didn't have one of my own.
It's debatable if that's a real road bike, but it had gears and drop bars, and it was the first bike to take me out of the neighborhoods. It was on that bike I learned there was a world out there away from the family, and it was good. I've ridden since.
Later I skipped over the Varsity and went straight to a Continental, but by then I was already a cyclist.