I didn't learn to ride a bike until I was twelve. I was one of the last in my Midway neighborhood on School Street. Leslie taught me how on a gravel rode in front of my house on her banana seat bike with noisemakers on the spokes and flowers on the seat. I remember when I got my first bike for Christmas; mom had saved for months and layed away a bike for me and one for my brother and was discussing the details of delivery to the back porch on Christmas Eve with her best friend, Teresa trying to be all cryptic in front of my brother and I, and then said "bikes" and her cover was blown. I remember her crying b/c she was so upset that she'd spoiled the surprise. We were old enough to know that Santa was a magical moment of our past. I can't recall what type of bike that was, but I rode the hell out of it. To and from the park, through the graded allies to Linda's and Dawn's and sometimes to Tasty Freeze.
I got a new Schwinn for my 19th birthday when I was living in Italy as a young military wife. It was part of a bundle-birthday-gift: a pair of blue diamond earrings, a watch, and a blue and gold bicycle. Everyone rode bikes in our small valley at the base of the Dolomiti Mountains. I saw grandmothers bike to the market and lean their bikes against the negozio del pane for the day's bread, a group of men parking bikes outside the fútbol stadiums, and children riding their bikes to the gelaterias. I wanted to replace my car for a bicycle, but didn't have the motivation. I only rode the back country roads for exercise, but I still have fond memories of the Schwinn.
The Schwinn was packed up and moved with us to Texas but arrived a couple months late, so I bought a Magna from Target to ride to my new job at Johnny Carino's. I would not recommend biking July/August down Bandera Road from Helotes to San Antonio, ever. This experience kinda burnished my biking experience in Texas.
Once in North Carolina, it took me several years but I broke out my old Magna bike the first time gasoline hit $4 a gallon and rode to work at the Pour House Music Hall. I passed a fellow donning a helmet and lights, waved and pedaled on. For the first year that I rode to downtown, the Tavern, and to NC State's campus for classes I might have seen half a dozen riders at large, but today the number has doubled if not tripled the variety of frames I see on the rode within my four mile bubble of Moore Square. I borrowed an older fixed tail Mountain Track from my aunt b/c the Schwinn got stolen from my front porch (fault of the owner not to secure it). The craigslist Trek that I got after wards, also got stolen within two weeks of the first. That time was not due to my negligence, this thief entered my basement for the pillaging. Pedaling the Trek Mountain Track 600 the five miles to class and back took major effort compared to zooming downtown on my 2008 Specialized Dolce. Buying-up when it comes to bicycles is the best thing you can do. If biking feels effortless then you enjoy it and want to do it more. If biking wears your ass out and the bike squeaks under the seat and the brakes scream when you come to a stop it's not as much fun as when you are one with your bike and forget you're even riding.
To be a biker though, you've got to ride. Ride and see the difference not having a roof over your head makes. Bike and show up to your destination flushed with wind blown hair. Bike and reduce your carbon footprint. Bike and see the sunset.
