Coming from a large family, we usually had to wait awhile before getting things. As a result I didn't get my first bicycle until I was ten or eleven. I didn't get to go pick out my bicycle, I think my father had some vague plan for surprising us. Anyway this is pretty close to the bike he came home with which on
ly confirmed for me the fact that my parents have no idea who I am. See, I like pink, NOW. When I was ten, I was an ardent little feminist tomboy who wanted no part of anything pink because it was for girls and therefore must be inferior in some way to the stuff for boys. I wanted a cool mountain bike on which I could do tricks. This is not what I had envisioned. And really the actual bicycle I got was much worse than this. It had pink and white streamers, a white basket with plastic flowers on it, it was just all kinds of horrid. (Of course my parents probably thought it was the best bike in the shop and that they were giving their eldest child the best bike EVER, but I was completely ungrateful.) Anyway, if my parents had any thoughts about me riding this bike sedately in the park, I crushed those dreams into oblivion. First I used my bike as a bus to cart all my sisters on rides around the parking lot. This is before they had those laws about helmets so you can imagine a couple of girls careening around the lot with no helmets at high speeds (because what fun would it have been otherwise?) Anyway, despite my parents continually telling me that my bike was not supposed to be for passengers I continued to take them up sometimes two at a time. Of course for me as the driver this was still pretty tame. After all I wanted to do tricks. So I did no hands. I brought both my feet on to the left side of the bike and glided. I was pretty pleased with my skills....until the day I was showing off for one of the neighborhood kids and while doing one of my tricks careened directly into a parked car and went flying. Okay, so I wasn't maimed. But there was a lot of blood and it got infected and left a scar, so it definitely counts. P.S. I looked up the bicycle laws in NJ and part of the law states that "bicyclists should not drive the bicycle with feet removed from the pedals, or with both hands removed from the handlebars or practice any trick or fancy driving in the street. Limit passengers only to the number the bicycle is designed and equipped to carry." So either they heard about my antics and are now trying to ruin the fun of all the children of today or I was a rebel and a rule breaker and didn't even know it. Kids don't try this at home.
ly confirmed for me the fact that my parents have no idea who I am. See, I like pink, NOW. When I was ten, I was an ardent little feminist tomboy who wanted no part of anything pink because it was for girls and therefore must be inferior in some way to the stuff for boys. I wanted a cool mountain bike on which I could do tricks. This is not what I had envisioned. And really the actual bicycle I got was much worse than this. It had pink and white streamers, a white basket with plastic flowers on it, it was just all kinds of horrid. (Of course my parents probably thought it was the best bike in the shop and that they were giving their eldest child the best bike EVER, but I was completely ungrateful.) Anyway, if my parents had any thoughts about me riding this bike sedately in the park, I crushed those dreams into oblivion. First I used my bike as a bus to cart all my sisters on rides around the parking lot. This is before they had those laws about helmets so you can imagine a couple of girls careening around the lot with no helmets at high speeds (because what fun would it have been otherwise?) Anyway, despite my parents continually telling me that my bike was not supposed to be for passengers I continued to take them up sometimes two at a time. Of course for me as the driver this was still pretty tame. After all I wanted to do tricks. So I did no hands. I brought both my feet on to the left side of the bike and glided. I was pretty pleased with my skills....until the day I was showing off for one of the neighborhood kids and while doing one of my tricks careened directly into a parked car and went flying. Okay, so I wasn't maimed. But there was a lot of blood and it got infected and left a scar, so it definitely counts. P.S. I looked up the bicycle laws in NJ and part of the law states that "bicyclists should not drive the bicycle with feet removed from the pedals, or with both hands removed from the handlebars or practice any trick or fancy driving in the street. Limit passengers only to the number the bicycle is designed and equipped to carry." So either they heard about my antics and are now trying to ruin the fun of all the children of today or I was a rebel and a rule breaker and didn't even know it. Kids don't try this at home. 
12 comments:
I think we had the same bike! I was a tomboy too and trashed my bike pretty quickly. I think the little basket come off minutes within getting the bike. It finally got stolen.....so somebody liked it. I too have run into parked cars, too funny.
Where's the fun in riding a bike if you can't ride it with no hands. That was the best part. I was the youngest and had the hammy downs. My son is spoiled i think because of it cause he has everything.
Ooo I was the delicate cross between tomboy and girly girl. I liked to fish and loved the worms but also loved taking pictures in pretty dresses today not so much lol
I am laughing...I have done that many times. I think there should be a rule that cars aren't allowed to park in the street.
I could never ride my bike without my hands, although I tried.
I think I had that bike, only it was light blue. :)
hee hee i only had cool bikes because i am a youngin' and i dont think i even know how to ride a bike with my hands on the handlebars!
I hated pink as a child too. Could not abide it. Now I like it. I however was a chicken, not a crazy stunt driver like you.
uhh.... remember how we would spend hours upon hours riding around in circles in that parking lot?
I never learned how to ride a bike. I used to make my family push me up and down the driveway while I sat on my tricycle and I didn't even attempt to pedal it. Terrible.
hahahaha...
Smoooooooth.
X-games look out!
Who needs a helmet?
The good Lord provided us with a helmet. It's called a skull.
If that breaks, maybe we just call it culling the herd?
Thanks for the story, darlin!
Haha. My bike was purple. I loved its sparkly banana seat. Could you pop a wheelie, huh? And the handle bars...they just screamed passenger seat.
I lived on that thing...not sure I would if there had been all the rules there are now. (Not that my parents would've enforced them). The NJ laws crack me up. No feet removed? bwahahahahaha.
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