Learning to Ride My Bike

When I was younger we moved a lot. I have lived in so many places I honestly cannot remember all of them. I do remember one place and what happened there more than any other.

Entering my school age years, we moved into a two bedroom green apartment on Hayes Ave in Bucyrus, Ohio. It was a two bedroom apartment that wasn't suited for the single mom and five kids that were crammed in there. It wasn't just any green, it was the type of ugly green that was discontinued as soon as it hit the shelves. The apartment sat on the corner of another street named Auto Ave. with an auto glass factory across the street. Just beyond the factory was a train track that carried CSX coal freight cars back in the day. The apartment sat relatively close to the tracks and every time a train came by, it would shake the apartment and the ground around it long before it arrived and long after it left. There was a modest yard that served as a safe haven for fun. A lot surrounded this apartment. There was a little dairy crest store around the corner, a small family owned convenient store around the other corner, Carley's Bratwurst sat right down the road and just beyond that the most magnificent sledding hills at the local golf course. However, what made this apartment so memorable was that it sat at the top of a huge hill that was covered to create a paved monster.

Not every street can be remembered as a paved monster. This paved monster was so big and was such a huge hill you could see half of the eastern part of Bucyrus standing atop it. In the heat of the summer you couldn't see the end of the road because of the heat waves rising up from it. Hayes Ave. was lined with houses that generally kept the cars in the garage, which left the street free from obstruction. On any given day there were kids playing street hockey, basketball, dodge ball, kick ball, and the famed foot races up the hill to test our endurance and speed against each other.

I was fortunate that I always had a friend to play with because I had two brothers; Tim and David. Tim is five years older and David a year and a half. Tim was always the calmer one who had a level head and a knack for making good choices. David and I being closer in age really took advantage of our wild and free life that was afforded by the strain of a single working mom.

Tim presented me one day with the opportunity of a lifetime. He was going to teach me to ride a bike. Tim took me out to the top of the paved monster. At four years old, I remember sitting on top of that hill on a spider man bike staring straight down waiting for the directions of my brother who obviously had worked out all the thoughts of teaching me how to manipulate this hill for the first time without training wheels long before he convinced me to do it. Tim presented the idea with a fearless confidence that his little brother was going to conquer the paved monster that day. His confidence wasn't apparent to me as all I could do was think about what I got myself into.

Tim was holding me up by holding the seat of the bike and gave me very strict instructions. "I'm going to give you a push and when I do keep your feet moving and whatever you do, do not lose your momentum." I had no idea what that meant but all I knew was that I looked up to my big brother and trusted that he was steering me in the right direction with his on the job training of teaching me to ride a bike. Tim gave me a subtle nudge and that's all it took because the slope of the paved monster swallowed me up on one end and spit me out with speed on the other end. I remember Tim yelling, "Go Joey Go!!! Keeping pedaling...you've got it!! Don't stop!"

Needless to say, I didn't make it down the paved monster the first time with any success. That entire day, Tim would give me a nudge to get me started and I would fall off and fall off and fall off and Tim would pick me up again and again and again.

I am not sure Tim remembers that story but I do more than ever now. I never thought about how many times he picked me up that day until recently when he picked me up again at age 34. Only this time, I was not on Hayes Ave. learning to ride a bike...people were pushing me off the bike of life.

You see, no matter how fast you pedal, how hard you hit the brakes, or how many times you "fall off" the bike of life, the people that truly care about you will you pick you up, dust you off, put you back on your bike and give you another try.

Apples

Being a kid was great!! Being a kid for me was especially great because I got to experience new things all the time. I remember when I was five, my dad (Carl) chased me down the road because I took apples from the neighbor's tree. I remember laughing so hard with a shirt full of apples and wondering how in the world my dad, who I had never seen run before was keeping up with the fastest five year old on the planet. I ran down Union St. where I lived in a little two bedroom green house that used to serve as medical quarters at the fairgrounds during WWII until they were moved and reconditioned as homes. Our house had a little detached garage that with a gust of wind my blow down but we all knew the big pine tree was holding it up. Back to the story, when I reached the end of Union St. I had three options... I could go straight into the open field where there was room for a hundred horses to run with a little house that sat there. A blind lady lived there and once a week her son would bring her groceries. Today was grocery day so I couldn't cut through their field. So, I turned left onto Woodlawn Ave. where I dodged broken sidewalks. The kind of sidewalks that had been lifted by massive roots from the trees next to them. As I ran, I remember thinking I had to jump one bump in the sidewalk then quickly dodge a low hanging branch all the while hearing the thunderous pounding steps of my dad who was drawing closer. Just as he was getting close I remembered that the fastest way to get away from an alligator is to turn a lot. As a five year old your imagination comes in handy in times of need I'm sure. As my imagination jolted my brain into telling my legs to take a left there was a low fence that I quickly hopped and continued into the alley behind our house. As if my dad wasn't human he hopped the fence in stride and drew closer but he didn't anticipate another alligator evading move. As he reached for me I took a quick right into the trailer park bobbing and weaving between each trailor. As I was running, I didn't realize I was leaving a trail for my dad to track me; apples were falling from my shirt. I stopped to rest for a minute panting while wiping sweat from my head and with my hands brushing my thick curly brown hair away from my forehead and ears. I still remember the wind hitting those hot sweating spots beneath my air (what a feeling). In all my confidence of beating my dad in a foot race over apples I forgot one thing; I had to go home at some point. I sat forever wondering when I should return. My take for the day didn't end up being as fruitful (no pun intended) as it had began... I was down to one apple. I decided since I didn't have anywhere else to go that a return trip home was inevitable. I walked a slow walk home enjoying that apple to the core. As I made my way around our rickety garage I tossed the apple core to our dog Toby who was tied up next to the garage under the pine tree (more about Toby later). Just as I turned away from Toby, my dad grabbed me and spanked me for the apple incident and for making him run where he probably tore something I'm sure...if not a body part his pride from not catching me for the first time ever. My dad spanked me that night. It was the only time in my life he spanked me. He never spanked me again and believe me, I gave him plenty good reason to. What was it anyway that got my dad so fired up over the apples? Apples that grew from the earth on a tree. They weren't from a store. They were from the neighbors tree and besides the neighbor never seemed to complain as far as I knew. I know now that the apples are not what got my dad fired up. It was that he asked me not to take any apples from the neighbors tree and I did. It was because at five he was trying to teach me a life long lesson of respecting other peoples property. I wish I could go back to that day and ask my dad that if I always respect other people will they respect me and if they don't, can I chase them down Union St., left on Woodlawn, left in the alley, through the trailor park, and then wait for them to return home to give them my own thumping. That's not the point though. I don't know if my dad remembers that story but I do. I remember more today than ever because as an adult there are a lot of people who take your "apples" for no good reason. The differences are that their parents aren't there to tell them if it's right or wrong and they don't have the guidance or innocence of childhood to feel bad.