Four Wheeled Two-Wheeler
Hurriedly, she thought she rode down that narrow road Through the thick, white snow, toward the rusty pole "Three houses left till she reaches the goal," whispered her older cousin...
growing up
The Joy of Cycling
Until I was around thirteen, I never owned a bicycle. At that age, my father bought me one and taught me how to ride, although I didn’t know...
Like Riding a Bike
Ready?" John asked. "Are you ready?" Lara countered. "The house was bad enough." "Oh, good grief," Darrin said, bending over to grab the rope handle on the garage door. "I'll do it." He gave...
Memories from My Early Years
"If I could turn back time and ride with my grandfather more often or take more summer trips through town, I'd happily turn in the keys to my...
Why Don’t You Get a New Bike?
Why don't you get a new bike? the passing biker said without waiting for a response. But I have an answer. I've ridden the same bike for over forty years. I got it...
The Kid in Us
We were at my parents' house for the holidays, a family reunion of sorts. My brother, his wife, his kids, and mine, my husband — we were all...
A Cherished Freedom
A freedom so profound and subtle I miss each and every day When my hair flew haphazardly Every which way Caressed ticklish by the air Balmy be it winter or summer And it made...
Lost In the Light
“Into the broad daylight, you will see me shine,” Wyatt said and gazed at me while we were cycling through the neighborhood. The soothing breeze lightly touched my skin;...
Mom Was Right
I have a whole history with bikes, It's gone on for thirty years. I have both good and bad memories, a lot of emotions, smiles, and tears. I got a pink ten...
Sharing the Gift of Cycling
My name is Tyra. As an 8-year old child, I had no friends because I was shy and timid. I grew up in a small neighborhood named Charlotte,...