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.
