When I was in Middle School, I bought a red Schwinn with my own money. A Made-in-America Schwinn 10-speed with a steel frame and toe clips and racing handle-bars.
I loved that bike. I used to wax it. I rode it everywhere. Fishing trips, around campus, to town for that museum job, that radio job and eventually that other summer job.
In High School, I traded it in for a black Schwinn 10-speed. Lighter and nicer, but not red.
It helped me run away from home once and helped me compete in the triathlon in college.
I used to put on my pink shirt, fill up my white water bottle with the blue top and get on my bike. Cinch up the red leather straps on my toe clips and get going. Fifty miles was nothing in those days. Neither was eating a pound of M&M's, a loaf of bread and starting on a six-pack of Cherry Coke.
Yeah, strange habits back then.
The last two years I rode my bike consistently I got hit by two different cars. OK, I hit them. Turning right, right in front of me so that I hit the rear, passenger-side door—what is that? Me hitting them or them hitting me?
Once I moved out of the country, I stopped riding the bike. Too many ways to get killed.
Too many stop signs.
Not enough open road.
So I gave away the bike.
Well, I still have the open road and stop sign problem. But as of today, I don't have a bike problem.
Today I purchased a brand-new, FCR-3, road-ready bike.
I got a new helmet and a tag-along, third-wheel for the youngest boy to ride. So far it's been a lot of fun.
The oldest boy and I have been putting on the miles exploring here. Quite fun.
More later!
