My Dad

I have been thinking about my dad recently. I think it has to do with my bike. Hey! I got a bike!

First story. I have hade 4 bikes in my life. The one I had training wheels on and learn to ride. I think that one was red. After I grew out of my trainer bike, I got a big girl bike with a banana seat that I rode throughout my remaining elementary years into middle school. I also had a white plastic basket on it.

(This is not a picture of my bike, but it was the bike I had - A Dream Girl by Huffy, I think.)

Then I asked for a 10-speed for a long time. I think it was Chistmas of 1992 or 3 that I finally got it. A generic red 10-speed with a white comfort seat. I was in love with those curved handlebars and I wanted a more grown up bike.

It was around this time when the first story of my dad comes up. One Saturday morning/afternoon, he and I went bike riding throughout our entire town. I don't know how long we were on the roads, but it was great. When we made out way home, we stopped at a convenience store located on the street of our neighborhood. He got us both sodas and we sat on the bench at the store and drank our Cokes.

I wish I had more stories like this.

Back to the bikes. One day I was riding around town with my brother and a couple of his friends. We rode across some railroad tracks which bent my front wheel. I stopped riding that bike. We inhereted two vintage cruiser bikes from my grandfather which my dad cleaned up and repainted. I started riding the cruiser and that was the start of my love affair with vintage and vintage-styled bicycles.

Boyfriends, jobs and cars stopped the bike riding. I never rode a bike again. It wasn't until I was 27 that I wanted a bike again. I specifically wanted a blue beach comber or a cruiser bike. It had been on my wish list ever since. After years of promises and frustrations and hunting down The Bike, I finally got myself a bike.

A student gave me a gift card as a late Christmas present. So very sweet! I picked out a bike, ordered it and my sweet husband put it together for me. The next day I picked up a tire pump and was finally able to ride my shiny, new, bike. 

The proverbial "They" say you never forget how to ride a bike. This is obviously one of life's lies. I barely went 30 yards before being scared while making a turn and plummeted arm first into a neighbor's mailbox. 

Brain:"Turn!!!" 

Arms/hands: "You idiot! We don't know how!" 

Feet: "We got this! We won't let ya fall all the way!"

Ivy was running the sidewalk with me and cried when I crash-landed into the mailbox. And she wanted to ride with me. The logical solution for us was to get a kid seat - I'm terrified that I will crash and fall again with the additional weight of Ivy when I'm still not very confident of my own balance and weight on the bike.

We will just have to wait and see. Additional note, I picked up a wicker basket for the front.

So I said I had been thinking of my dad. I have another story that in no way related to the bikes. When I was a teenager, my dad would come home from work with treats for us all - whatever we wanted. Our favorite sodas or candy. He would do this every evening without fail. And I just remembered... He used to sit outside on the front porch all the time (he still does) and I would sit out front with him. We didn't really talk much, I mostly read trashy romance novels.