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BICYCLES

People were riding bicycles fifty years before I was born. More than that probably. The gay nineties pictures I have seen show many kinds of bicycles: big wheel in front, big size wheels, and of course the bicycle built for two. That doesn't mean they were common in my youth. I can't remember anyone in my family having a bicycle until maybe Johnny, when he was twelve or thirteen. Before that Johnny rode Sonny Davis' bike sometimes, and I,too,really wanted to learn to ride.

Now, dirt roads are really no good for bike riding, and I learned that the hard way. Sonny and Johnny had taken turns riding, then the two of them headed off into the woods, chasing squirrels with a sling shot, or some such endeavor, and Sonny left his bike by the back porch. I looked at it for quite a while, and then decided to try riding it around the yard. No one stopped me, so I continued to ride a few feet, fall off, get back on and try again. The yard was no good, I decided. I couldn't pick up speed, and that was why I couldn't stay on. Maybe I would just take it out into the road. Of course the dirt road had deep ruts from a recent rain, but maybe, if I just stayed over to the side of the road, where it was relatively smooth, I could really ride.

At first it went very well, and I was pumping those wheels and going smoothly down the hill. But at that time the hill had not been leveled out and the road dropped steeply, and it was then I discovered the bike had no brakes. Faster and faster I approached the bottom of that long hill, with a huge mud hole covering the entire road just before the bridge. There was no avoiding it, and when I splashed into the water, the bike went one way and I went the other. I landed on my face, with red mud covering the entire front of my body. I picked up the bike and dragged it to the side of the road. Then I crossed the barbed wire fence, shaking and holding back tears. From the 'branch' washed as much mud off my dress and myself as I could, then followed the pasture cow path back to the house, so I wouldn't run into anyone.

They were waiting for me by the back door, Johnny, Sonny and Mama. Omeone, they said, had stolen Sonny's bike. At first everyone seemed angry, then it dawned on the family just what I had done, and I had to endure their falling down, roll on the ground laugh -even Mama seemed to think it was funny, but finally someone asked if I was hurt, and I was! Besides huge bruises on my side, the skin was gone from my right forearm, and my pride was hurt irreparably.

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