I’m sure everyone has a place in their heart for their first bicycle. Whether it was a formal looking 3-speed, a pimped-out cherry red three-wheeler or a hand me down ugly yellow ten-speed, you probably remember your first set of wheels. I remember my first bike like it was yesterday.

It was given to me on a warm Sunday night in spring. It was metallic flake green with chopper style handlebars, white banana seat and orange safety flag atop a white mast. I loved that thing. Yeah, it had training wheels, but they came off real quick, in a day actually. I was told, despite my protests, they had to stay on until they were proven unnecessary. My father raised them so they could operate more like outriggers. It was my belief that my bikes not suffer such superfluous options.

Did I mention how the chrome fenders and chain guard reflected sunlight so intensely I could set something on fire?

My old man returned Monday night to find his son bleeding from knees and elbows, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey dad, watch this.” My old man shook his head in disbelief as I rambled to the corner and back. Those training wheels never stood a chance.

I’ll tell you that every skinned knee and elbow was worth getting rid of those darned training wheels. Why? They were a barrier to speed. Speed meant Distance and Distance meant Freedom. Granted it may sound a little bit dramatic now, but it’s true when you’re five.

You know it now just like you knew it then.

Bikes = Freedom

Especially since freedom meant my mom’s permission to turn the corner two doors down and ride to the white garage at the end of that property. After all, it was 200 ft away from my house. For the love of all that’s holy, it’s like being given two grand and a passport.

In a few short weeks, I was allowed around the block (or five grand and diplomatic immunity). I was getting faster by the day, weaving back and forth, developing handling skills. Soon the realization hit me that to maintain speed around corners I’d have to cut across lawns. As a result, the old man on the only corner without obstacles was yelling at me to stay of his grass.

“Scream all you want you’ll never catch me.” I’d say to myself “ I’m already so fast my face might peel off.” I was Chuck Yeager and he, my sonic boom. Something I created and left behind for others. The block I orbited was my planet, and I loved circumnavigating it.

Cycling = Racing

Racing was the next pursuit. It started with dogs along fences. I lost my first race against a human due to mechanical failure. The chain had come off after I hit a slab of sidewalk lifted by a root. I was literally at the farthest point from my house. My opponent happily rolled on to victory leaving me stewing the whole way back to my home.

I learned how to put the chain back with some pointers from my old man and never walked home again. Fortunately the solid rubber tires prevented dealing with flats.

From that point on, “Anywhere, Anytime” was my motto. I didn’t care what size the bike or how old the opponent, I just loved riding fast. My mother starting competing too. She unwittingly entered a race to keep my clothes from destruction. Her opponent was chain grease.

Bicycles = Patriotism

When July Fourth rolled around my mom widened the uses for my racing machine. With patriotic paper mache, clothes pines and playing cards we transformed my little green machine into a parade float. We wove the mache strips through the wheels and fabricated streamers for the handlebars. The clothespins fastened the cards in place so as to slap the spokes of my wheels. It was cool, especially making the chap chap chap of the cards increase to a constant zzzzzzzzzzzzt.

It’s better to be outside doing than inside watching!

That summer I spent a ton of time outdoors, met a lot of new kids, expanded my world and wore one hell of a groove in that old guys lawn! I learned that it’s better to be outside doing something you like than inside watching programs about something you like.

Bikes Keep You Young

Bikes do more than just remind us of our youth; they help us capture it again in a very real way. It’s true. I still do a lot of the same stuff. Not so much the patriotic paper mache, although the card thing is tempting.

So, Why ride a bike? To get as close to those youthful feelings as possible. To indeed recapture our youth. To express patriotism (think about that one). To go outside for a while. To race a dog to the end of the fence. To bond with your family. To weave back and forth. To make new friends. And my all time favorite --To see if my face might peel off.

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Author's note: I want to tackle a lot of outdoor topics, most of them dealing with bicycles, writing about bikes and related topics. However I enjoy other activities too, like camping and hiking, so I’m also looking forward to writing about new experiences with sports I have yet to try.

I’d also enjoy some feedback, questions and story ideas; covering topics by having a dialogue of sorts; hitting the points that will help you--the readers--the most. Email me.

About Don McManamy. Don is a sponsored cyclist who has been riding competitively for many years. He has a passion for the outdoors and fitness, and he’s always exploring new ways to have fun outside. He has traveled the world enjoying outdoor activities like surfing. Don is also a freelance copywriter, writing whitepapers and case studies as well as web site and advertising copy.