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Complete Book of Long-Distance Cycling : Build the Strength, Skills, and Confidence
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Magazine's Complete Book of Road Cycling Skills : Your Guide to Riding Faster,
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| | |
THE
CYCLIST
by
George Lester |  |
I
didn’t learn how to ride a bicycle until I was 14 years old. It wasn’t because
I was that uncoordinated. It’s because I never had one. No one had bicycles in
Spunky Flat and when we moved to Gladewater my dad figured if we’d gone that long
without one we didn’t need one then. My first introduction to a bicycle was when
we went to Louisiana to visit our cousins, Junior and Clyde. They each had a paper
route and a bicycle was necessary to perform their daily duties. They were very
generous in letting me learn how to ride on their bikes. This was great until
I returned home to Gladewater where I still didn’t have that desired two- wheeler.
One sweltering summer day Gorman, a school chum, rode his bicycle to
my house. As he sat resting and cooling off with a glass of lemonade he asked
if I would like to go bike riding with him. I explained that my brother and I
were probably the only two kids in the county that didn’t have one. Gorman told
me that he had an extra bike at his house and I was welcomed to use it. We immediately
rode double to his house and went to a shed to retrieve the vehicle. When he rolled
it out my jaw dropped. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, it’s a girl’s bike” Gorman informed
me. I had a vision of being kidded unmercifully by all my friends as I peddled
along on this cute little bike. My disappointment gave way to practicality when
I considered the alternative, doing without.
Soon we were a zipping all
over the Gladewater area as I discovered a newfound freedom I had never experienced
before. This was one of the happiest times of my life. We rode from early until
late each day, never tiring of the adventure. I hoped these wonderful days would
never end. But they did. One day we were going down one of the many steep hills
in the area at a speed way beyond sanity. Gorman found it fun to dart toward my
bike and pull away just in time to avoid a collision. He did this one time too
many and the inevitable happened. As he struck my vehicle I was thrown to the
ditch and landed in soft sand. I looked up to see Gorman flying through the air
as if he had been shot out of a canon. His flight must have covered at least 25
feet before he came to earth.
That awful sound of his body hitting that
gravel road still haunts me. The soft sand had cushioned my fall and I wasn’t
hurt. Gorman lay frighteningly still for a long time. Then finally I heard a groan
and he started to stir. As he slowly rose to his feet I saw that his clothes had
been shredded like he had battled a wild cat. Every inch of his exposed skin was
raw and bleeding. His bicycle was damaged beyond repair. We were only a short
distance from my house so I helped him hobble his way there. My mother treated
his wounds and then drove him home. It wasn’t quite as serious as it looked at
first sight so he was back to normal in a short time although he was sore for
a while.
I reluctantly returned the loaned bike to him and thanked him
for the use of it.
I don’t remember ever seeing him riding it. I guess
he didn’t want to be seen on a girl’s bicycle. |
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