For some reason, while working on my wife's bike last night, I started thinking about the first new bike I had when I was a kid. So in honor of upcoming father's day I thought I'd share this story about my first bikes, and my Dad. I'm definately no writer, but I'll do the best I can.
I grew up on a farm. I was(and still am) 100% country boy. Not sure you could say we were poor, but my parents didn't have enough money to just go out and buy my sister and me every little thing we wanted. A new bike being one of those things. I can remember when I was about four or five, trying to learn to ride some huge bike that we had around the farm. My Dad tried and tried to help me learn to ride that thing but it was just too big for me so I quickly lost interest. One day we went over to my Aunt and Uncle's place and I distinctly remember following my dad out to their barn. There hanging way up high in the woodwork of the barn/building was a bicycle JUST MY SIZE! It was a bike that my older cousins had outgrown and now it was all mine. My Uncle and my Dad got it down and dusted it off and loaded it in the back of the Rambler wagon. The bike was rusty all over and the tires were solid rubber. I remember one of the tires had a big chunk missing out of it, but none of that made any difference. With more help from my Dad I was riding that little bike in no time. I remember my dad kept telling me how to stay upright and running along behind me holding me up. He kept telling me "If you start leaning to the left, turn left, if you're leaning to the right, turn right". It didn't make any sense to me at the time but it worked. I rode that little bike for a while but I soon outgrew it.
After a while I REALLY REALLY wanted a new bike but I knew my parents would not, or could not, get me one. And I didn't expect them too. Even to me as a little kid a new bike seemed like a HUGE investment back then. I was always looking at a magazine called "Boy's Life" and on the back cover there were always pictures of all these really cool "prizes" you could win. And all you had to do was sell Christmas/greeting cards. So one day I decided to send off for the card selling package. I got it and promply decided I was going to sell enough greeting cards to "win" a new bike!! It was some astronomical number of cards I had to sell but that didn't stop me. Anyway, I started hitting up everyone we went to visit and I walked to houses in the area and I had my mom take me to some farther off houses. I think she even took that junk to work with her and sold a lot of cards to people she worked with. Amazingly, after a couple of months I had enough cards sold to get my new bike. I was pretty darn excited! I sent in the order and the money and got the cards....but no bike. I was a little disapointed but I didn't lose faith. I think my parents thought I had been ripped off by some card selling "scam". I delivered all the cards and continued to wait for my new bike. I'd just about given up on it and almost forgotten about it when my dad got a call from the railroad station of all places, asking something about a bicycle. We got in the Rambler and drove to the station and low and behold...THERE IT WAS!! My new bike!! It was in a million pieces packed in a big cardboard box, but I knew exactly what it was when I saw the box.
We got it home and my dad put it together and I was in 7th heaven. I'd guess this was around 1966 or 1967, give or take a year, and this was the coolest bike I'd ever seen. It had a long skinny "banana" seat that had little sparkly metalflakes in the plastic cover. It had 20" wheels and knobby tires. It was some awful brownish yellow color but it made no difference to me at all. And the coolest thing of all was it had THREE SPEEDS!! It just doesn't get any better than that! The shifter was mounted on the top tube. It was this huge "stick shift" contraption that had to have been close to a foot tall. I remember more than once sliding off the front of the seat and slamming the ...uhhmm.... "boys" into that damn shifter. Oh the pain! After a while, I added a "sissy bar" on the back of the bike. It was now the envy of all my friends. Ok maybe not, but I thought it was. I could ride wheelies for what seems like miles. Was probably more like ten feet. My dad had built a big double carport on the back of our house and half of it had a concrete floor. I used to go flying inside the carport, throw the bike sideways on the concrete, turn it as hard as I could and go flying back out into the gravel driveway where I'd fling it sideways in the gravel, drag a foot, turn, and start another lap. I think my Dad used to get a little irritated at me for creating a "berm" in the gravel where I turned. Seems like I did this for hours. I'd just go around and around and around until I was totally exhausted. It was GREAT! I rode that bike everywhere. There weren't very many houses out there where we lived, but I could go see my friends whenever I wanted to now. I thought I was really doing something to ride my bike 4 miles to go to my best buddies house for the day.
I don't remember what happened to that bike but it's long gone. I probably outgrew it and it was given away to one of my relatives or a neighbor kid. Who knows. Wish I had it back, just as a keepsake if nothing else. My dad's been gone since 1990 and I never thanked him for getting me that first junk bike or helping me to learn to ride it. I think he had as much fun teaching me, as I had riding it. I'd like to think he's still watching me ride my bike and that he's proud. Hopefully he's reading this as I write it.....So....
Thanks for the bike DAD!