Memory Lane Monday - Childhood on Two Wheels

Welcome to another Memory Lane Monday! 

I hope you enjoy my story, and then have a memory of your

own to share on your blog. Don't forget to link back up here.

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When I was a kid, my parents procured my Aunt Ethel's Roadmaster bicycle for me. The year was somewhere around 1962. One small correction: Aunt Ethel was my grandfather's aunt, making her my great-great aunt. I make this distinction for one important reason. The bicycle was hers when she was a girl. It was already vintage when I got it!

My Roadmaster (which I called the "Roadsmasher") was a real beauty on balloon tires...more rubber on the road, making for an "arduous" ride, to say the least. I had two wire baskets on the back of mine. By today's standards, she was a tank! (The bike, not my aunt.)

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At the same time that I was bulking up on the Roadsmasher, my younger sister received a svelt pink Schwinn for Christmas (also with two wire baskets on the back, but hers also had a cute basket on the handlebars). Compared to mine, her bike was like a racer.

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Then, when the time came, my little brother got his banana seat Schwinn with the ape-hanger handlebars. It suit him to a "t". Boy, that kid could fly on two wheels!

None of the bikes were three- or five-speeds (or whatever number are now available). Ours went our speed, and we rode them all summer long. We rode them to the city swim pool, the YMCA, around our neighborhood and on errands for our parents. We rode them everywhere.

The local convenience store was about six blocks from our house and was run by sisters who were friends of my parents. My sister, brother and I would hop on our bikes, ride down to McCarthy's and pick up chips, dip, popcorn and (heavy) six-packs of bottled Pepsi so we'd be set for the Packer games our family loved to watch on Sunday afternoons.

Because of the weight of my Roadsmasher, I always was the last to arrive anywhere, but in retrospect, my legs must have been in great shape from pedaling that monster down the road. Over the years, the blue paint faded so it got a new paint job and it was looking shiny and new again.

When I moved into my own apartment, that bike moved with me. I'd ride her to and from work on nice days. I used to get teased when I'd put a lock on the old girl ("Who'd want to steal that ol' thing?", they'd say), but the one time I didn't lock her someone stole it and I never saw it again.

Every once in a while I wonder if she ended up with a person who appreciated her. I'm sure they never realized the history she held for me. I hope that she still makes the rounds these days and that someone is happy to have her. I'd hate to think of her rusting away and neglected after all the fun we had together.

Now's your turn. You can link your blog post back here so that others can read your July Memory Lane Monday post. Thanks for reading!