Skip to main content

My First Bicycle

Patrick Ball 1962
My kid days were filled with experiences, like learning to ride a bicycle, that decorate my thoughts akin to the excitement of colorfully wrapped Christmas gifts.

As another birthday approaches, I realize now that growing up in Cuba, Illinois was going to happen with no particular thought or effort on my part. As an insatiably curious child, I stumbled through those early years not really paying attention to where we lived just accepting the fact - as I look back, appreciating the fact - we lived in a small midwestern town.

I slid down the chute on the 229th day of the year, August 16, 1956. It was a Thursday in Angouleme, France. My father was an MP in the U.S. Army, from rural Illinois, and within three years he moved the family back to Cuba.

One of my most vivid early memories was the challenge and freedom of that first bicycle. It was a red, single speed 26 inch Sears bicycle. No training wheels, just hop on and away you go . . . well, it was not quite that easy.

At seven years old, and about three feet tall this behemoth, looked to me like the General Sherman, it was huge. Determined, that did not dampen my spirit to ride it. Lowering the the seat it was possible to reach the pedals with toes extended, however not quite enough to complete a revolution of the crank to power the bike. Dads theory was . . . “He’ll grow into it,” in the mean time, he bolted thick wooden blocks to the pedals so I could reach them and ride. 


Ronnie, Patrick, & Rodger
My next challenge . . . how to mount this monster? No problem - just kidding - it was a problem. When Dad was there to hold the bike I would climb aboard like scaling a ladder. By myself, hmmm, there must be a way. Our house, on seventh street, had a wooden back porch with two steps about two feet off the ground. My (brilliant) solution, stand the bike beside the porch, mount it, and push off, whee - now what? Once in motion, floundering around the yard, the next dilemma was how to dismount? After falling more times that I dare count, the answer came in a flash of clever insight. When I wanted to stop, without falling, simply ride into the lilac bush and climb off! It worked like a charm, however that didn't go over too well with Mom. She finally relented when she realized the only other way to stop was to fall over.

During the 60's, kids were not adorned with helmets and knee pads as they are today. It was the middle of the baby boom, I guess there were so many of us we were considered expendable. Or, maybe is was the lack of creative marketing by the toy manufactures? Anyway, it was some time before I was allowed to go out onto the street. Then, it was around the block, uptown, to school, and a few years later I was riding to Canton and back, a 18 mile (29 kilometer) round trip (Ask Bruce Marshall some time about riding to Canton - that’s another story).

Since that time however, me and my many different makes and models of bicycles have traveled to scores of locations, and ridden hundreds of miles, far beyond the quiet streets of that small town in Illinois. That curiosity and sense of wonder never left me. Today, from those early beginnings, my bike still symbolizes independent transportation and freedom.

Ah, Summer! Do you have an early memory of your first bicycle?

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Mom Was Right

In this episode: Mom Was Right (Again!) . . . Remember that old saying, "Mom knows best?" Well, this week, it resonated profoundly. I vividly recall my mother's steadfast remedy for the common cold, which was ingrained in my 1960s childhood: "Rest in bed, drink plenty of fluids, and take aspirin to reduce pain and fever." . . . Or now that I think about it, this may have been a Bayer aspirin commercial–Simple . . . Fast-forward to the age of AI and endless medical information at our fingertips, and guess what? Not much has changed. Yet, somehow, this week, Lori and I were blindsided by a cold—the first in over five years. My incredulous "How could this be?" quickly morphed into a dawning realization. Our company's annual meeting, a melting pot of colleagues from Illinois, Texas, Vietnam, Colorado, Northern California, and the Central Valley, was a veritable petri dish of germs. And, oh, the germs found me! Getting sick, especially after a long str...

Whispers of Spring

In this episode, Whispers of Spring . . . Spring has a way of sneaking in when you’re not looking. One day, you’re shaking off the last chill of winter, and the next, you realize the light has shifted, stretching shadows just a little longer. It didn’t make a big fuss about it—no dramatic entrance, no trumpets—just a quiet unfolding, like an old dog settling into a sunny spot on the porch. Last week, Daylight Saving Time kicked in, which meant we all fumbled with our clocks, grumbled a bit, and then, like frogs taken aback by a warm rain, leapt forward into longer evenings. The sun now lingers, in no rush to set, hanging in the sky like a tossed coin that refuses to fall. With the extra daylight, we find ourselves drawn outside once again, migrating to the back patio like folks are drawn to a warm campfire. The lawn chairs are right where we left them, waiting like old friends. The air hums with wind chimes, their tuned cylinders catching the breeze and weaving together something that...

Special April Fools' Edition: Did You Fall For It?

In this episode: Special April Fools' Edition: Did You Fall For It? (And a Little Baseball Nonsense) Welcome, fellow baseball aficionados and purveyors of the peculiar, to a very special, dare we say unpredictable, issue of On the Fly! Today, the air is thick with . . . well, probably just regular air, but a specific mischievous something is buzzing around. Can you feel it? Does that tingling sensation make you double-check your shoelaces and suspiciously eye any unusual packages? Yes, dear readers, it’s April 1st! A day steeped in mystery, shrouded in playful deception, and frankly, a day where you shouldn't believe anything you read (except maybe this . . .maybe). But before we descend into a whirlwind of whimsical falsehoods (don’t worry, we’ll mostly keep it light!), let’s take a quick, slightly wobbly, historical flight through the origins of this most unreliable of holidays. Whispers from the annals suggest a few intriguing possibilities for why we dedicate this particula...

At 92–Don's Digital Daydream

Listen to the audio here. In a world of his own–lives, ole' Doctor Don, Not one world, but three, 'til the setting of the sun! There’s his Blog-World , so bright, with words all a-whirl, And Book-World , with stories of boy and girl! Then, Day-World , where legs didn't leap, didn't run, Just shuffled and creaked 'til each day is done. But his brain, oh, his mind, it’s zippy and keen, A most curious fellow that ever was seen! At ninety and two, with a twinkle so bright, He met Chatty and said, "What a strange delight!" This box with the answers, so quick and so bold, Of theology and stories, new truths to unfold!" "Integrity, relationships, where do they fit? This thing makes me wonder, bit by bit!" He ponders and pokes with laughter and a grin, "Til POOF! he has gone to a world from within! A world made of words, a fantastical place, Where limits of the body, left not a trace! He Soares, and he zooms, with a thought and a rhyme, Trans...