Bicycles and Blessings

Children always have a special excitement for their new bikes. I witnessed this first hand this last Christmas when Abby, and Nate received new bikes for Christmas. They could hardly wait to go outside and ride. It didn't seem to matter that the weather was much worse than inclement. Their eyes sparkled every time they even looked at those bikes. And frequently throughout the day you would find at least one of them just sitting on their bike, right in the middle of the living room of their home. The scene was magical, and the memories it evoked were poignant as well. It took me back to another time, and another Christmas a very long time ago, when I received my first bike.

I loved that bike! And like Abby and Nate, I couldn't wait to get outside and ride it. It was the first morning of a very long relationship between me, and my bike. Like the proverbial sixteen year old that has just been handed their first set of keys, I had just been given my first form of faster transportation. And nothing but good weather, and a few hours outside could make that morning any better. I had that bike for years, and me and my siblings, Bob and Nik, would spend hours riding those bikes. They would take us to far away lands, amazing new terrains, never before seen by man, and everywhere else that our imaginations could take us.

This bike was the source of my realization that mobility could come in much faster varieties, that it could cut down on the amount of time it would take to get somewhere, and was a source of endless fun and freedom. It was even the source of my one and only broken bone. Bob and I would frequently set off to go somewhere, or more often than not -- no where. Just around the block, as we use to call it. It was on one such of these block adventures that Bob and I became more consumed with where we were going, rather than what we were doing. As Bob steered into me, and I lost control of this wonderful form of transportation, I suddenly, and unexplainedly, found myself alone, in the middle of the road, with my bike on top of me -- and my broken ankle.

All that really registered was the pain at the time. Until of course a car came around the corner, and I realized that there was something much bigger, and faster than I was on the road. Fortunately for me, this particular car was carrying a good Samaritan that took the time to stop the car, and carry me into the house. Bob of course had vanished long enough to alert mom to the impending catastrophe that was already unfolding, out in the middle of the road -- the one place we weren't suppose to play. But my only concern was for my bike, still lying forlorn, and alone, where it had been left, out in the street.

This incident didn't end my love affair with my bike -- it simply slowed it down for a time. In fact, that passion for riding my bike didn't fully end, until I discovered the use of an automobile. But I still feel that I saw more of the world from the top of my bike, than even my car has been able to show me. The lands, and places created in my imagination, for me to explore, on this two wheeled wonder, would never be overshadowed through the realities of my expanding world.