Our First Bike

My brother and I got our first bike when we were about nine or ten.  Living in the country and being kids it was about the only way we had to travel.  Ah but more important it was the prestige of just having one.  It didn't matter what kind it was or how it looked just the ownership was key.  I say our, because it was one bike between, Wayne and myself at the time.

Our dad said we could own a bike when we had enough money to buy one.  Ya right.  We did earn money working around the farm.  But that was little and no where near the price of a new bike.  Besides mom really didn't want us to have a bike.  She felt that the Lower River road was no place to be riding a bike.  The traffic was fast and a fair amount of it.  So the edict worked for them both.  Dad didn't want to spend the money and mom didn't want us on the road.  Some where during a summer day in 1951 or so things changed. In truth I am not sure of the year, do remember it was summer.  

On that fateful summer afternoon Wayne and I were sitting in our backyard discussing the ways of the world with our friend, James Beed.  During the course of our conversation about the fastest way to cut down a tree, the biggest cow pie was in our pasture, I had really bad poison oak and other important facts, Jim announced he was getting a new bike.  A three speed.  Three speeds were the wave of the future.  Wow that's cool we thought, but the bigger wow was what was he going to do with his old bike. Of course you never come straight out and ask.  That would show you are desperate and you were never desperate.   After a bit of hinting around that we just  might be interested in taking his old one off his hands. You learn at a young age how to bargain.  You never tip your hand. Finally he  said he might be willing to let us buy the old one. Will is one thing, but at what cost.  He thought for a minute,  a long minute, as we sat holding our breath in a cool manner then Jim said five bucks. FIVE BUCKS!   With a sense of joy, yet with controlled  nervousness we said we would have to check. With a quick step we headed into the house to check our rat holed savings.  Moving with a fear he would change his mind. A deal was not a deal until money change hands. Even then it was questionable among kids.  After pooling our funds we came up with the FIVE BUCKS.  Asking our parents was not necessary, we hoped.  That deal had been struck when we were told that "you have to earn the money your selves".  The bike was ours.  We were kings that summer.

When we told our parent we had bought a bike that afternoon.  Their response was well-stunned.  There was nothing they could really say.  Dad did come up with a weak "is it safe".  Safe really met did it work.  It worked.  

The bike was an old 1930s or 40s fat tire bike.  Painted red with a tank mounted in the straddle bar. At one time the tank contained a horn.  Now there was just a button that did nothing.  The seat was big saddle with coiled springs.  Still the most comfortable seat ever built.  We spend many an afternoon washing, polishing and of course lubing the bike.  The various axles required oiling by a little clip coved port built in to the axle.  You lifted the little clip cover and squirted in some oil from a oil can.   The spokes always required polishing, because the oil would drip from the hubs and along with dust left a dirty film on them.  One trick for polishing the hubs or axles was to place a loose fitting piece of leather strap around it.  As you rode along it would do the polishing for you.  That was a summer to remember.  We were free to range much further than before.  We did do a lot of walking along Lower River road, but now the possibilities were endless.  Although we could only go one at a time.  Or one walk the other riding the switch.  It was not satisfactory but it was a start.  

 In truth after we share rode that bike for a month or so dad took me down to a used bike shop on G Street and purchased us another used bike. Then we were off to many adventures.  Riding to Riverside park to swim or to White Rock our favorite swimming hole.  We could ride to school at Ft Vannoy, or pick beans on the Upper River road.  Ride up Granite Hill to the railroad tracks through the cemetery.  But those are other stories .