The Bike ride

Tales from the Backyard…Walking the dogs on the beach this morning a story of youth came to mind so I thought I would relate that to you….When I was seven, I, being home alone, ‘borrowed” my sisters bike to ride, you know a ”girls” bike, with the crossbar down by the chain sprocket.  It was easy to ride; you made sure the pedal was down, gave a push, stepped on the pedal with your left foot and slid your right across to the other side.  I was too small to reach the pedals while sitting on the seat so I would gain speed pedaling standing up, slide back on the seat, spread my legs and coast.  I came to a curb which I had gone over almost every time riding so thought nothing of it.  I must have not been in the seat right or something ( I can feel the men scrunch already and I haven’t even said it yet) because when the wheel hit the pavement below the curb, I slid forward and down, feet still spread, dead center on the yoke.  Have you ever hurt yourself so bad, you can’t scream, yell or cry????  All you can do is run (thinking probably that if you run fast enough you can outrun the pain), well it doesn’t work.  First I ran in circles than figure eights, then I ran clear around the block and back but when I got there the bike was gone, someone had stolen it.  I sat down to cry, not from the pain or losing the bike, but from the whooping I would get when I told my mom.  A State Trooper pulled over seeing this little boy crying, his name was John Crawford and had in later years the dubious honor of having a shootout with 2 bank robbers and killing them both.  Anyway, upon telling him he left and in about 15 minutes brought the bike back.  I have only told this story once before, because thinking of it makes me want to run. And now I’m too old for that.