First Bike
When I was about 6, I think it was my 6th birthday, I got a bicycle as the main present. My parents were the typical early 1950's hard working couple who mortgaged a modest house in a developing area on the edges of the town of El Paso, Ysleta for sure, Where cotton farming country was giving way to streets and structures. My bike was a used bike built sometime in the 1940's. It had been fixed up and was the perfect ride to learn on even though it was too big for a 6 year old and it had no training wheels.
Thinking back on those days, remembering the frustrations I had in learning to balance, having my mom push start me to let me get going, encouraging me to pedal so I could actually stay up and be going on the thing, makes me realize that learning to ride that bike was also the the setup for learning to cope with many other frustrations life has to offer.
Ahh, that bike. Big fat tires, no chain guard, 15 coats of paint on it, and of course a fixed gear. I wish I still had that bike in my collection today. At the time, 6 years old, I loved my bicycle dearly, could sense that it offered some sort of ancient freedom spirit. But like many things of my youth, I took the bike for granted, and one day it was gone. I can't remember how it got away from life but it did, that's all I know.
Later when I was 12 or 13, we had already moved out of the lower valley and up into the desert, which was the happening place as far as suburban develpment. Streets and sidewalks bordering the frontier of the open desert, awilderness for young pioneers. A lot of the neighbors had bicycles and I wanted one also, mainly to mainatain the status quo of how kids got around in the early 1960's.
The parents, the ever lovin American example of hard work and struggle to provide a better life, encouraged me to earn my own money to get the bike I wanted. So I mowed yards until I saved enough to go to Western Auto and get me a Western Flyer. To me it was the coolest bike ever, especially after I removed the cowling, chain guard, fenders and flipped the handle bars. Looking back, what a huge mistake that was, but at the time it was oh so cool. The highschool years lead more to wanting to own and drive cars, make the bicycle once again obselete and letting the dear friend slip out of my life once again.
I rediscovered bicycles three or four times during my life after those first two formative processes, and now hope that I stay close to all my bikes from here on out.
Thinking back on those days, remembering the frustrations I had in learning to balance, having my mom push start me to let me get going, encouraging me to pedal so I could actually stay up and be going on the thing, makes me realize that learning to ride that bike was also the the setup for learning to cope with many other frustrations life has to offer.
Ahh, that bike. Big fat tires, no chain guard, 15 coats of paint on it, and of course a fixed gear. I wish I still had that bike in my collection today. At the time, 6 years old, I loved my bicycle dearly, could sense that it offered some sort of ancient freedom spirit. But like many things of my youth, I took the bike for granted, and one day it was gone. I can't remember how it got away from life but it did, that's all I know.
Later when I was 12 or 13, we had already moved out of the lower valley and up into the desert, which was the happening place as far as suburban develpment. Streets and sidewalks bordering the frontier of the open desert, awilderness for young pioneers. A lot of the neighbors had bicycles and I wanted one also, mainly to mainatain the status quo of how kids got around in the early 1960's.
The parents, the ever lovin American example of hard work and struggle to provide a better life, encouraged me to earn my own money to get the bike I wanted. So I mowed yards until I saved enough to go to Western Auto and get me a Western Flyer. To me it was the coolest bike ever, especially after I removed the cowling, chain guard, fenders and flipped the handle bars. Looking back, what a huge mistake that was, but at the time it was oh so cool. The highschool years lead more to wanting to own and drive cars, make the bicycle once again obselete and letting the dear friend slip out of my life once again.
I rediscovered bicycles three or four times during my life after those first two formative processes, and now hope that I stay close to all my bikes from here on out.
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