First taste of Freedom

When I was 8 years old, my parents took me to look at a bike being sold at a garage sale.  I was so excited when the $6 brown bike with the big banana seat fit me like we were made for each other.  It was the bike that would carry me around our driveway, a large stretch of black tar that covered our front driveway, around to the side of the house, and down and around to our garage in the back of the house.  This was where I would practice riding. Learning, no, mastering the art of bike riding became my mission - just me and my brown bike with the banana seat.

Now, at 11, my daughter has found the freedom a bike holds. Jay loves riding her bike with her friends. She comes up with different places to go and when all else fails she just rides around our hilly neighborhood. I think it's so cool that although things change from generation to generation, from what I can tell, bicycles have always been a constant. Even Jay's friends know the freeing feeling a bike offers as they come over to whisk her away often.

It reminds me of when my sister and I would ride up and down our street, Arlene, around the block, over the uneven sidewalk, on the short stint that sat on the busy street across from our elementary school, and zooming down the slight hill back to our house at 3311.  Later, we would ride our bikes to 7-11 to spend whatever little bit of money was burning a hole in our pockets. On a summer day, there was nothing in this world like riding our bikes to 7-11 to get Slurpees! It was our first taste of freedom, on our bikes, allowed to ride just far enough to feel free.

Today I got to thinking about Jay on her own bike and how far I am comfortable with allowing her to go, to feel that first taste of freedom. And I came to the conclusion that as long as she is on residential streets, helmet strapped on, Jay too can enjoy the freedom my parents allowed us as kids.  Because really, from what I can remember, as my niece would say, it was the BEST thing EVER!