Get back on the saddle!
If you thought I just got bucked off a horse, you’d be sadly mistaken.
Instead, those were the words the blond-haired minister spoke to me as I laid spread-eagle on the front lawn of the church parsonage with the rear tire of my newly acquired two-wheeler still spinning in circles.
Although the four-legged animal and a bicycle are two completely different modes of transportation, I have a sneaking suspicion that a nasty fall from either one would make anyone long for a warm bath with Epsom salt.
The bathtub was definitely calling my name after flying headfirst over the handlebars of my brand new bike.
“It’s time to get the lead out,” cautioned Dad as he encouraged me to get back on the proverbial horse and give it another whirl. “Since Sister (Sarah) Taylor’s having hip replacement surgery today, I need to leave for Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh shortly; so, we only have a few more minutes to go over the basics.”
I’m just trying to catch my breath after having the wind knocked out of me.
After visiting Ted and Ada Snurr – old college friends of my parents from their days at Eastern Bible Institute in Green Lane, Pennsylvania – and their two children the previous weekend, this rising seventh grader was just itching to take his recently gifted banana seat bike – a Schwinn “Fair Lady” featuring twenty-inch wheels and chopper handlebars – for a test drive around the block.
You heard that correctly.
Not only was it a girl’s bike, but it also had a basket as well as tassels on the handlebars; and I would be remiss not to mention the fact that it was also the color PURPLE, and I’m definitely not talking about the theatrical movie starring Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey.
It looked like McDonald’s Grimace puked all over it.
Sure, go ahead and laugh it up!
While I wasn’t particularly thrilled about receiving a girly bicycle, my father always told me to never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Of course, this would-be genius did make a few minor modifications to his two-wheeled transport – by cutting off the gaudy basket and tassels as well as scratching off the name printed on the metal housing encased around the top of the bike chain – prior to making its public debut for all the world to see as he practiced riding it on the sidewalk along North Street.
“There are brakes on the bike,” the Bible scholar was quick to point out when I pushed my human-powered cycle back to the front steps of the colossal red-brick building with stained glass windows. “When you want to come to a complete stop, you need to back pedal just slightly for the brakes to engage; otherwise, you’ll continue to crash and burn if you keep trying to use your feet.”
Plus, you’re going to wear out your sneakers!
By the time the two-wheeling Pentecostal preacher sped off to his appointed destination on a newly purchased motorcycle, I finally conquered the battle of the brakes which had been plaguing me ever since climbing out of bed earlier that morning; and I cruised down the sidewalk – past the alley – before coming to a full stop at the corner of North Street and Hazel Avenue.
I had successfully completed the first leg of my journey around the block.
Considering the uneven square sidewalk pavers were somewhat difficult to navigate which was only compounded by numerous public water access lids, I decided that it was in my best interest to ride the modern-day velocipede on the painted asphalt with all the other different modes of transportation, especially since every other kid with a bike did the exact same thing.
It was smooth sailing from here on out!
Besides, the suburbs on the north side of Ellwood City were virtually empty since most of the traffic congestion only took place twice a day when much of the workforce was either coming or going to the industrial complex on the opposite side of the Fifth Street Bridge; so, I only had to move over a couple of times for stay-at-home mothers coming back from the grocery store.
Shortly after accomplishing my lofty goal of circling the block without any unforeseen mishaps, I decided to venture down Orchard Avenue – a beautiful tree-lined street with a plethora of stately homes – which was along the north side of the Pentecostal church until reaching the end of the road at Smiley Street; whereupon this pedal pusher spotted a meandering tributary known as Smiley Creek over an embankment in the distance.
Since it was delightfully reminiscent of Pigeon Creek in Bentleyville, Pa., my mind was flooded by an abundance of very fond memories from another life and time as I stood at the water’s edge happily skipping rocks enjoying a trip down memory lane; after which I traveled back to more familiar surroundings with a wide smile splashed across my face thinking the creek was aptly named.
When the tall clergyman came home later that same afternoon from the church-related excursion to the Steel City, he was beaming from ear to ear upon seeing his youngest son’s purple bike – still fully intact – lying on the front lawn of the Cape Cod-style house along with a miniature-sized bicycle sporting a pair of training wheels and a tricycle belonging to his two daughters.
“Look who’s still in one piece,” assessed the proud father of four upon spotting this newly accomplished bike rider busy at work in the dining room. “Due to that rocky start this morning, I thought you might have one of your arms in a sling by the time my church business was completed; but I’m glad to see that I was wrong for a change.”
“I showed that bike who was boss,” boasted this ambitious stripling while putting the place settings around the table for the evening meal. “Not only did I ride all the way around the block, but I also traveled down to Smiley Creek which is four city blocks each way; and I didn’t even crash and burn a single time.”
The determinator strikes again!
Mark S. Price is a former city government/county education reporter for The Sampson Independent. He currently resides in Clinton.