I’d love to reclaim that feeling of freedom that I experienced the summer I turned ten and got my first bicycle. Its simple operating system included pedals that I pushed forward to start and slowly back-pedaled on to stop. I found it exhilarating to ride my bike out my driveway, onto the gravel road, and around the corner at the end of the block. I could be out of sight almost as soon as the echo of the “goodbye” to my mom disappeared into thin air.
The gravel road that fronted our homes was too dangerous for me and my playmates to claim as a playing field because of its potholes, traffic, and dust. So on pre-bike summer days my on-foot roaming was limited to the unfenced front yards of my neighbors. I was only allowed to visit my neighborhood friends unannounced if they were outside in their yards. That meant being stuck at home with my five younger brothers and sisters more than I wished, as none of them challenged my athletic ability or mental acuity.
Not only did my bike add road races and community exploration to my list of summer activities, it also relieved me of tedious walks to the town swimming pool, and I didn’t mind that I still arrived home at the end of a sun-blessed day needing a bath to wash off the dust. No longer did I balance myself on a railroad track as I walked to my piano lesson on the other side of town.
And in the fall, it took much less time to ride the two miles to school than it did to walk.
The sharing of my biking experiences doesn’t fully represent my joy of bike riding, as it doesn’t express how the soft caress of the self-generated breeze on my face and the warmth of sun rays on my back lifted my spirits to a higher plain. Could it be that my bike journeys were my first steps toward independence? No wonder I still relish the memories of my childhood, freedom-filled, bike-riding days.