The Joy of Freedom ~ Riding My First Bike

On an August Sunday during the summer I turned twelve years old I had two surprises. My first surprise birthday party and my first and only bike. It was one of the best days of my life. My parents and guests at the party stood together in a semi-circle. When they moved away from the center of the human group, there stood a bike.

It wasn't just any bike. It was a brand new Western Flyer Buzz bike. It was a brilliant shining deep blue with silver trim and touches of red. It was amazing. It had a very modern seat and the classic lines of a boy's bike. I was a happy girl. I was also a girl that did not know how to ride a bike.

We lived near a camp road in rural Maine in the 1970's. That gravel road was the ideal place for me to learn to ride my bright blue bike. I loved the buzzing sound that it made when I picked up speed. My growing feet were the back up brake system for that flying bike. Actually for the first few days it was the only brake system. It took awhile for me to get the hang of pedaling backward to stop that rig on a dime. I walked my treasure up a hill, settled myself in place and let it rip down the hill. My heart pounded with delight as I picked up speed. My heart pounded in terror every trip down that hill when I inevitably veered toward the ditch and my foot brake system did not work fast enough. I'd head straight for this large boulder in the ditch at the bottom of the hill.

I crashed in to the boulder, picked myself up, inspected the bike and limped back up that hill again. Back down the hill I flew once more. That bolder loomed ahead in it's side pocket. A magnet. A magnet for a Western Flyer Buzz bike. Down I crashed again.

The summer days were filled with a buzzing sound. The early evenings found me in our dooryard riding around and around on that bike. My feet finally became one with the bike's brake system and all was well. My life was filled with buzzing, dirt roads and our large front yard.

Sunday rolled around again. The night before Labor Day. We were enjoying warm days and the nights still had that warm summer feel in the air. The last hours of freedom were ours as we counted the minutes to the start of school. The start of a new school for me. I rode that buzzing bike in circles around our yard. Again and again. Suddenly there was a tug on my pant leg. Swiftly everything crashed, my Western Flyer and I hit the gravel. I felt and heard a snap.

My father came running at the sound of my cry. He pulled my pant leg from the bike, picked the precious thing up and threw it across the yard. I was shocked to see my blue Buzz bike sailing through the air. I was deeply concerned about it's condition as it hit the ground once more. My father was much more concerned about his 12 year old with the broken leg.

My 1970 Western Flyer Buzz bike is considerd a class bike today. I wish I still had it. My boys would have loved it. I also wish I had my first edition Superman comic book but that's a whole other story. My bike and I were reunited the following summer. It has some scratches and dings, I had a crooked leg. We tore down the gravel camp road and flew by the boulder for days on end. My first bike, a real treasure.