REFLECTIONS "Growing up in the 50s" Chapter 10- Full Speed Ahead

Nostalgia Tidbit

There were a lot of makeshift bikes around our neighborhood.

 I never had a new bike as a kid or teenager. Still we always found

 a way to have a bike of some kind. After riding,you just left it in

your yard with never a worry about someone stealing it. Try that

 this day and time! I probably never rode it more than a mile from

 the house…never mind those 30 mile bike rides we go on nowadays.

 

Chapter 10-   Full Speed Ahead

Learning to ride a bicycle was a trying experience for

me. Luckily, I had my two older brothers patient

enough to go to extremes to help me learn. First of all,

any and all bicycles we ever had were hybrid models.

Here a part and there a part and shazam, we had a

complete bike.

Two of the most difficult things for me to perfect were

getting on the bike mainly because I was so small and

the other was using the brakes.

 

Once I got on it and got going, all I wanted to do was

pedal for all I was worth…”Full Speed Ahead”! It

didn’t take long before I mastered the “getting on the

bike”. I learned I could get on the front porch, which

was about two feet high, and saddle the bike fairly

easily.

Where I had difficulty was when I had to pick myself

up off the ground after falling and there was no porch

nearby. Sometimes I would actually climb on the front

of a car…anybody’s car…and saddle the bike from

that elevation. Stopping was a whole story in

itself. Remember, in 1953 most bikes, if not all, did not

have brakes or gear shifts on the handle bars. The

brakes were only effective when you reversed the

forward pedal motion in order to apply enough

pressure to stop the wheels from turning.

 

I would pedal and pedal, but when it came time to stop,

I just could not for the life of me press the brakes. As

you might imagine, I found a lot of creative ways to

stop. There were a number of cars in the neighborhood

that had dents and scratches as well as my bike tire

prints to support the fact that I was guilty as charged. It

was great in those days, people didn’t care if you used

their car as a method of stopping, they just teased me

about it.

I was smart enough, however, that I never used a

moving car as a stopping post. I had a lot of other more

creative ways to stop including jumping off the bike

while in full flight. It hurt, but it worked. Usually the

bike continued for awhile with a mind of its own

eventually finding a way to stop.

 

I remember one time racing with a couple of buddies

and in order to stop I used a curve. Actually, I didn’t

make the curve but used the rough “off road”

experience to stop me. I can still feel the bark of that

tree being peeled off my face and elbows. Finally my

two brothers decided enough is enough! The need to

teach “little brother” how to use those brakes was long

overdue. Our dead end street was probably about 100

yards long from top to bottom. My brothers positioned

themselves with one at the top of the street which

would be my starting point and the other at the bottom

of the street which would be known as the “finish line”

or hopefully…the place in which I would successfully

utilize my brakes for a proper STOP!

 

This experience had to be one of the most exhilarating

experiences of my life to that point….ok, give me a

break…I lived in Auburndale, Florida in 1953..not a

lot going on for a 6 year old, ok? Anyway, my brother

at the top of the street assisted me in mounting the bike

while my other brother stood at the other end to help

stop me in the event I didn’t brake properly. I began

pedaling faster and faster. You can really build up

some speed within 100 yards when all you do is pedal

faster and faster. I did!

I can still see my brother’s eyes as I approached the

end of the street as he is yelling…”HIT THE

BRAKES…HIT THE BRAKES…All I could do was

pedal forward faster and faster! Finally as I was near

the end, my brother reached out and grabbed my

handle bars….the bike stopped!

 

I still have scars in some delicate places that remind

me of that day. Still, the memory that stems from that

day is not the scars and the fright of not being able to

stop, but the warm memory of the fact that I had two

brothers who cared about their little brother.

Eventually, I learned to “stop on a dime”..or at least in

a reasonable amount of time! My next transportation

challenge years later would be mastering the

automobile. Stopping wasn’t the problem…keeping it

between the lines was. That is another story for another

day.

“Full Speed Ahead”!

I didn’t!

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