Bikes of Christmas Past

Children and bikes. A simple, yet natural combination. Something universal. A person's first taste of freedom, a tool to connect to a wider network of friends and places. David doesn't live within easy walking distance, but now that you have a bike, David's house is fair game.

Which is awesome, because David has a pool.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Your first bike is the first true outlet to new adventures and possibilities and independence.

I remember my two childhood bikes with extreme fondness. The first, a red/white 24" bike that lived at my dad's house. With it, I perfected the swing-your-leg-over-the-top-tube-and-start-running-while-noisily-discarding-the-bike-on-the-lawn dismount. I also crashed it into several trees on a makeshift dirt jump at the end of the culdesac, peddled through streams, and tested how long I could ride on the local golf course without getting chased off by the groundskeepers (along with some neighborhood boys).

At my mom's house, a teal and hot pink Giant Awesome (that's right, Awesome) carried me to every connecting court and side street. Living in a housing development, there was no place to really "go," but I was lucky enough to live close to the smallest National Park in the country: Ball's Bluff. Thinking back on it now, I'm amazed that I willingly climbed the hill, which in my memory was huge, and down a long gravel pot hole filled road to get there. If I were to make that same ride today, I think it would wind me, possibly even intimidate me, but back then? Whatevah.

Because back then, the bike meant nothing but fun. That's it. Fun. When I wanted to have fun on the bike, I rode. When I didn't want to have fun on the bike, I didn't ride. Period. Brand or cost meant nothing. Lord knows I also had a Nintendo and Leggos and Rollarblades and MTV (back when they played videos) to while away the hours. But I still chose to get on the bike.

Which is why I think your first bikes are your best bikes. Your truest bikes, if that makes sense. Now you may have carbon electronic shifting this and titanium single speed fox shock that. But think about number one. Remember? Wasn't that great? Don't you wish you could go back to that?

I sure do. True, there are mountain bike trails, which even I can see have a greater sense of abandon than road riding provides. But you have to suit up, and get the right pedals, and drive to the trail head, and yadda yadda yadda. You don't just run off the bus and throw down your bookbag and grab the bars and go.

Sitting here this Christmas evening, I'm thinking about all of those little kids who ran downstairs to discover that Santa left them a shiny new bicycle under the tree. All of that impending fun in their futures. I'm excited to have been a small part of that.

In fact, I think it's probably the best part of my job.