My favorite toy was my first and last childhood bike. It’s also one of the few pleasant memories I have of my Dad.
Of course the bike was blue — my favorite color as a child, and my Dad outfitted it with the banana seat and sissy handlebars popular at the time that I so wanted and loved.
I treasured bike riding because it meant I was independent and free. And even at those young ages — 8 – 9 – 10 – 11, I found solace in nature. Peddling faster and faster past Timmy’s and Skeeters, then Mr. & Mrs. Olsen’s and finally Jimmy and Joyce’s, I’d make the crest of the hill and openess where I would sing fanciful songs to the horizon without fear of being heard.
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”
― Jane Eyre
wRighTing My Life 
What a wonderful story and memory of your Dad. Hopefully, you didn’t give up on bike riding after that.
And oh yes, I forgot about how great it felt to have the wind blowing wildly through my hair (and riding through mud for that matter too). Thank you for reminding me. Sweet memories and sweeter days for sure. Thank you also for the follow. 🙂
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I was in 5th grade riding my bike around my neighborhood when I totally grooved to the wind in my hair and caressing my face so I closed my eyes ever so shortly and ran an into a parked car freshly painted blue. The sweet lady who I assumed owned the car came out of her house and asked if I was ok. I thanked her and said yes then walked my bike home where my dad scrubbed the paint off with turpentine. He was so compassionate. Never brought it up again.🤪
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