Hmmm, the memories...

My first ride was a lovely steele bubble gum pink tricycle complete with metal spoke wheels. It had a white handle bar basket with daisy flowers. My beloved Tom cat named Jumbo faithfully rode in the basket.

My first two-wheeler ride was appropriately named "Bucky" (because I told my mother the bike wanted to buck me off like a wild horse). I learned to ride Bucky without the training wheels as a result of the Wizard of Oz movie. I must have had this fear of water melting me like the Wicked Witch of the West. As I entered a yard sprinkler's stream of water overflowing onto the sidewalk, I pedal on two wheels unassisted like the wind.

After a 20 year bike break, I bought my rode girl I have now. Which I thought I would fall off and kill myself trying to keep my balance on the skinny tires to the end of neighborhood street. But, with the fear of a sprinkler head getting me, I remembered how to pedal like the wind once again.

As for the rest... nothing stands out stronger than the memorable feeling of freedom that riding brings to the soul.