I had always thought my first bike was a tiny little purple thing with training wheels because that is as far back as my memory takes me. I’m not sure why, but I had never gotten around to asking my Parents if that really was my first bike or if there were bikes prior to the purple machine. I’ve been meaning to bring that up to them for a very long time….but all of a sudden I don’t really have to.
We were at my Parents cabin this past weekend and while digging around in the garage, we found this beautiful old tricycle. When I saw it, I figured it was something out of a museum….“What an old classic trike”. Then I found out that the classic trike used to be mine. “Am I really that old”.
They just don’t make them like they used to now do they? Take a look at this craftsmanship. Simple. Functional. My First Ride. Wow, it’s like I located one of the missing pieces that make up the complex puzzle of who I really am. Somewhere in this red metal and wood lies the foundation causing me to be loving the bike today.
The cool thing is that now I get to pass on this little piece of personal cycling history to my children. My 4 year old is a little big for it, but absolutely loves getting on and pedaling…..and I know that my 4 month old is going to love having it as his first bike.