Part 1: Road Warriors on Two Wheels

I remember the day I got my first bike—a Schwinn, of course, because if you didn’t have a Schwinn, you weren’t really one of the cool kids. Bikes were like sneakers back then: if you didn’t have the right ones, people noticed. But once you took off on those two wheels, the world opened up. You might start out with a plan, but you’d end up somewhere totally unexpected, maybe surrounded by friends, maybe just following your curiosity.


We’d try to get lost on purpose, sometimes pedaling all the way to places like Walter’s Hot Dogs or the Carvel ice cream stand, crossing neighborhoods on pure energy and the lingering effects of President Kennedy’s fitness craze. We were lean, restless, and ready to go the minute Saturday morning cartoons ended. Who needed GPS? We had landmarks—the firehouse on the corner, a fork in the road, or the sweet promise of a Carvel cone.


We were little road warriors, Hell’s Angels on sugar highs, fueled by ice cream, candy, and gum. The idea of getting picked up by a stranger? It never crossed our minds. If anyone tried, they’d have to get past a wild pack of kids ready to defend their turf. lourdes25624.blogspot.com