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Bicycle Dreams

I am dreaming of bikes these days. Summer memories are filled with the fun of riding bikes around the neighborhood.

My first two wheeler was a classic black and gold bike with a coaster brake that I was thrilled to receive from my cousin, Colleen. It was the dead of winter when we brought it home, so I was forced to wait for warmer weather before I could try it out. 

As kids we spent hours on our bikes. We played gas station and pretended to drive to far off cities on our "motorcycles", or ride the range on our "horses." 

That bike was eventually passed down to my sister, and I spent the next few years riding "boys" bikes, with sissy bars and banana seats and gears that I didn't quite know how to use.

When I turned 13 my parents gifted me with my first brand new ride- a pinky-orange ten speed. I hated the color, but loved the ride. My girlfriends and I often rode our bikes past a boy's house or packed a lunch and took off on the bike trail that wound itself around the perimeter of our neighborhood. 

When I moved to Florida, the bike gathered dust in the garage as I traded it for cooler transportation, namely a car. By the time I went away to college my parents had purged the garage and attic of our childhood and along with some precious items, like my junior high yearbooks, the bike was sold at a garage sale.

When I approached forty, I decided to purchase an expensive mountain bike. It was a gift to myself, an expensive dream bike that would take me down new paths.  I had visions of the family biking along mountain trails, but it never happened. 

I saw a classic Schwinn in a bike shop the other day and it rekindled the long held dream.  But this time I don't want to blaze a trail through the mountains.  I want to return to my cycling roots. I want an old fashioned two- wheeler with a coaster brake, soft seat, regular handlebars, and a bell to ride along the streets of my neighborhood.

So I am saving up in the hopes that by my next big-0 birthday, I'll be cruising on my dream bike.