Bicycle
I got my first bike for my fifth birthday. I already suspected that I would get a bicycle because my sister who was two years older was busy cleaning her bicycle. That's one of the sides of being the youngest, a downside, you get the cast-offs from your older sister. I soon realized that. When she was five, she got a beautiful brand-new bike, I had to be happy with her old bike.
And I was.
Until then I had a scooter that I raced through the streets with. I loved kicking off with my leg or kicking it backward and then going forward fast, but a bicycle was a lot cooler, even with my sturdy scooter with rubber tires.
There were children's scooters, which I found childish of course. These were wooden scooters, with small wooden wheels.
I had a red scooter, bigger than the children's scooter, that I used to cross the whole neighborhood with. It was in the fifties. There were few cars on the road yet, there was little traffic and my mother had taught me well where to look when crossing a street.
First look to the left, then to the right, and then to the left again. If nothing was in sight, I was allowed to cross. With the scooter, I’d go on the street, on the right side of the street I whizzed over the black asphalt.
But with all my love I exchanged my scooter for a bicycle.
On my birthday our family, my brother, my sister, my father, and mother came into my bedroom singing: 'Long may she live' singing and ‘oh how happy we are today, hooray hooray hooray’, I got tea in bed, a biscuit with sugar and presents from my brother and sister.
In the living room was the cleaned bicycle with a bow and balloons. Of course, I was happy with the bike but to be honest, I would have preferred a new bike, but I didn't get it until I turned seven.
My father and my sister taught me to ride a bicycle. I sat on the saddle trying to find my balance, I pedaled the pedals around and my father held onto the luggage carrier, the rear seat, I cycled, when I lost my balance, my father kept the bike in balance but very soon he let go and I cycled away.
“You are cycling loose,” my sister exclaimed enthusiastically, and my father was incredibly happy too.
I was happy too.
I cycled loose.
And I did that for the rest of my life. Cycle loose.
This is the bike I have today
62 years later.
Riding Loose
wonderful!