I do not remember my first bike. Do tricycles on the sidewalk count? I think my original three wheeler trike was followed by a rusty hand-me-down two wheeler.
What I do remember is my first new bike. In early grade school I bolted downstairs on a Christmas morning to find her waiting for me. She was a maroon Sting-Ray with a smooth black banana seat and chrome in all the right places. She had a classic look and she was mine. That bike was the Daisy Red Rider of my childhood.
Our town was a perfect kids-on-bikes town where you could leave the house on a summer morning and play all day. Someones mom might feed you lunch or maybe you just forgot about lunch or you returned enough empty pop bottles for credit to get a snack at the corner store. We kids rode every where on our bikes and the biggest rules were be good, don't fight, and be home in time for dinner. Adults in the community kept a general eye on us with laughs, kind smiles, and a wave of the hand.
We flew kites in the potato fields, built forts and played with Matchbox cars or Tonka trucks. Our bikes took us to all the nooks in town to explore. Some days we built homemade ramps and pretended we were Evel Knievel. No helmet - no gloves - usually wearing laceless sneakers from the discount store - sometimes with a shirt tied around our neck for a cape. We were fearless. Road rash and Mercurochrome were our badges of summer.
And then I started to grow up. We moved to the country where the road out front was busy and there was no great place to ride bikes. My dad helped us trade and we got a motorized mini-bike. It was great. I started playing sports, especially football and life was just different. Good, but not the same anymore. Instead of dreaming I was Evel riding a wheelie I dreamed of becoming a Pittsburgh Steeler.
I forgot about bikes for a long time. In high school I hunted, fished, chased a few girls, and played other sports to train for football. Then I went off to college, fell in love, got married, and did not become a Steeler. There is not a thing I would change about any of it.
Soon there were jobs, two kids and we moved into a starter home. JD and Beth started on trikes & Big Wheels and then moved on to their first new bikes which also arrived at Christmas. My wife also found a little two wheel bike with training wheels at a second hand shop and it became the bike of choice to learn two wheel riding. It was smaller than the new bikes and the kids could stand flat footed when they stopped which seemed to inspire confidence. Denine and I laugh when it comes up as a all-time great investment. My wife is brilliant. I think half the neighborhood kids may have learned to ride on that plain little old bike that looked like the paint job was done with a bristle brush and blue Rust-oleum.
Bikes were back in our family. I purchased a hybrid to take on vacations and ride with the kids. For a few years I would ride on vacation and get excited enough to ride the rest of the summer by myself on the road. By the end of each summer I could out ride the bike and I wanted bigger gears. I would mention this to the owner of the local bike shop that we used and he would suggest getting a road bike. The problem was I just could not visualize me as one of "those guys" bent over a bike and wearing tight stretchy cloths.
Then Jason asked me to lift a road bike off the rack. Oh. I understood. I stilled waited and made the investment the next spring. And then I waited some more and finally started after I spent time on the couch after a minor surgery and realized I needed to start living healthier. That is when I really started riding a bike again.
It did not take long to enjoy the feeling of my own efforts pushing me down the road. The bike was no longer a limitation, but a vehicle that set me free. I joined an informal group of local guys for weekly rides. Those rides fostered friendships and I started learning the dynamics of sitting in a paceline or large group. We began traveling to cycling events together.
Eventually I started racing. Those races have been town line sprints on group rides and with a number on my back at official events. I've learned what it feels like to make the right move at the right time to drive for the win and I've learned what it feels like to blow to bits out on the road and just hope to make it back.
When the ProTour events are televised I record them and watch the two-wheeled chess matches with fascination. Like most avid cyclists I have tried to explain race strategy to others and how hard it is to ride a perfect ride. And as astounding as it is to win a Grand Tour, I have stood slack jawed at the moves of the strongmen in the early season one day classics. Perhaps no other racing distills riding a bike to its pure essence as those monuments.
These days I am a seasoned cyclist. I more than enjoy riding. I am thankful to ride. Out on the road my mind clears and I can think about life. Nothing has ever made me feel mentally or physically better then how I feel after a good ride.
Recently I was riding with a close friend on a cool, clear Saturday morning. We had blue skies and the sun warmed us as we spun along. We talked about how good it was just to be able to go out and ride. For quite awhile we climbed a hilly section while we chatted about the stuff of life. Then as we turned a corner we quietly went to work. Our conversation stopped and we blasted through huge rollers exchanging alternating pulls at the front.
After one last decent and then a long uphill section we worked our way home giving it all we had. We closed fast and clean on the sign that marks the finish sprint on large group rides. Then it was over and it was time to get back to the rest of life.
Cycling is a difficult sport to explain someone who does not ride. It is much more than simply turning pedals in a circle. It is so basic in concept, yet so elegant in nuance.
Most of my life has been marred by some professional sporting scandal or another. Now, what many have suspected about professional cycling for a long time has manifest itself. Ego and desire to win at any cost is ugly in any sport, but perhaps especially difficult to explain in a sport that is already complex to anyone not involved with it.
Lance once said it is not about the bike. Life is not about the bike, but riding is. It's about freedom and simply riding well. Some folks have thrown their hands up in disgust and said everything is corrupt and the sport should just be killed. I don't know what to say to anyone with that position, so let me just ask one question.
Would you like to go for a ride?
