Isn't she lovely? The wheels, the kickstand, the seat! Pure beauty! I so love her! Huh? Yeah, I'm a grown woman and this is a child's bike. What does that have to do with anything? Oh, I'm sorry! Let me explain!
This is my daughter Dasia's Christmas present from "Santa." She's 8 and she asked for a bike this year. When "Santa" heard the words, "Mommy, I want a bike," "Santa" nearly burst into tears. Her words bought back memories of longing and wishing that my parents would buy me a bike. When I was a child I NEVER had a bike of my own. What kind of childhood is complete without a bike?
See, one time when I was mmmmmmm, maybe 7, my 2 friends rode up and down the sidewalk on a banana seat bike. It was 3 of us on one bike, but that's what kids do; a whole lotta stupid stuff. We didn't know it was a dumb thing to do, we just knew it was fun!
After a few laughter filled rides our fun came to an ,"Awwww, dayum! They done bust they asses," ride! I was in front and had control (or so I thought) of the handle bars and was the main peddler. It was my friends bike, so I knew my ride would soon end and I'd only have a bike in my dreams. I went hard for mine! My going hard turned into my falling on my face, chipping my front tooth, busting my lip and my knee!
Talk about a child screaming! I can't recall if my friends got to' up like I did. I think they fell on top on me('-') Somebody picked me up and walked me home. I mean I was screaming. Once I saw the blood running down my leg I got louder. My face stung, too. I got $#*&@# WAY UP!
All I wanted was comfort and for my face to stop stinging and throbbing. Instead I got blasted! My mother grabbed my arm and yelled, "I'm taking you to your father!" I guess I interrupted her soap opera. When my father saw me he grabbed me and commenced to whoopin' my entire pained ass! Why? I was already screaming, my leg was bleeding, my face stinging...Why? I guess I interrupted his next swig...('-')
I still don't understand why I got blasted by my parents. The old you shouldn't have been on the bike in the first place comes to mind, but dayum? Getting blasted on top of already being to' up? I love my parents, I really do. The 70's...the 70's...
You know, for the longest time I thought my nose was flat from the bike accident. And then I studied my mother's face. Thanks Ma for that the flat wide nose...good lookin' out.
That fateful day led to my parent's never buying me a bike. When my father said, "Don't ask 'cause you ain't gettin' it," you didn't ask. I'll have to write about my love for Crayola Crayons and Cranberry Sauce, too. One can of Cranberry Sauce during the holidays! What's the matter with people? Make sure you read the post, Nilla Luv. Can't get a Vanilla Wafer? Awwww, naw!
Maybe Dasia's bike will help me get over the anguish of never having a bike of my own. I have it hidden in the hallway that leads to the basement. Dasia never goes out there, but her momma looks at the bike every night before bed and every morning. My tooth is still chipped and each time, which is numerous times a day(I'm a lip gloss goddess)I see it I remember how it happened. I guess the older you get the more you long for the good old days of your youth. Sometimes we tend to focus on what we didn't have versus the needs that we did. My parents provided a roof over my head, food, doctor visits and clothes. In all honesty, what child cares about that? I wanted a dayum bike!
Anytime I had the opportunity to ride a bike I went in with it! Other kids probably thought what's the matter with her. Why is she peddling so hard and riding like it's the last time she'll ever see a bike? If they only knew...
Thankfully I have the chance to ride again! Well, through the eyes of Dasia. Looking at life through the eyes of a child makes everything look huge and so much better! Now close your eyes, pretend you're 8 years old and look at My First Bike! Isn't she gorgeous?
Merry Christmas!
