BobbyG

I think my first bike was a red kid's bike with training wheels, which were soon taken off. But when I received a hand-me-down green Schwinn Sting-Ray with banana seat, rear slick and front fork mounted bottle generator and light, I was Peter Fonda in Easy Rider (minus the drugs). My buddies and I would spend the summer days riding further and further out of our neighborhood. And the search for speed eventually led us to a man-made toboggan slide/ hill where sans speedometers we were convinced we hit 30 miles an hour through the old-fashioned goalpost of the football field at the bottom of the run. (We probably did.) Today, as a bike commuter I'm all kitted up with helmet, lights, mirrors and horn. Both my bikes have hand brakes, gears and road-bike riding positions. And despite all this and 40+ more years of wear and tear on my body, there are moments when I'm shooting under an over pass, or riding down a dark street with nothing but my headlight to illuminate the way, exploring new neighborhoods or just breathing harder than I thought possible, that despite the incomprehensible and often chaotic changes in my life, I know with all-consuming certainty and clarity that I am the same boy experiencing the same thrills that only bicycles bring.