Buddy Stine has just informed me that she's going to attempt to document all of the bikes she's owned. She's going to be writing about them over the next 30 days. She suggested I do the same. Actually, she sort of challenged me to.
But as we know, I'm a coward when it comes to challenges. Also, my memory is awful. And I've had a ridiculous number of bikes, especially in the last 10 years or so. For me to successfully complete this challenge would really highlight my non-trivial wanker gearheadness in an uncomfortably intense way.
Anyway. Let's start with number 1 and go from there shall we?
Before number 1 were a few number 0's. Trikes and Big Wheels and such. Everyone (every single one) in the 70's rolled on a Big Wheel for a while, usually until they cracked open the plastic wheel with the "brake" on it. Righteous man. If you don't know the butt pain resulting from jumping your Big Wheel off a board laid across some bricks, many times, then you missed out.
Anyway. Number 1 was a Raleigh BMX purchased in a Las Vegas toy store. My parents were divorced. My sister and I lived with my mom who was broke. The old man wasn't into child support, unless you include the 40 gallon plastic drum of brown rice dropped off on the front porch one fall afternoon in 1976.
But what the old man lacked in direct cash support he made up for in toys, speed, and adventure. So my sister and I flew down to LV where (in true divorced-parent, guilt-induced spending) the first place we went was a giant toy store where we could each pick out anything we wanted.
At first I tried to talk dad into buying me a chopper bike, because it seemed so cool. He agreed, but convinced me to get the BMX bike by appealing to my stated desire to "do jumps," which in retrospect, was probably an attempt by me to appeal to my perception of what he would want me to like. Whoa.
I don't know of any pictures of this bike, but I was about 6 when I got it. My dad shipped it up to Washington at the end of our stay. I remember exploring Cheney with that bike with my buddy Justin. I remember riding off an "eyebrow" in a farm field west of town, where I fell about 10 feet, right onto my face. That sucked. Thinking about it makes me just nearly taste that impact-to-nose flavor that is so painfully distinct to nose injuries.
I had that bike until I was about 10m when I got bike #2. More on that tomorrow maybe.
2 days ago