My bike was my first taste of real freedom, the key to unlock the entire world. I remember starting at the top of Keswick Drive and flying down the long gradual hill to the end of the street – probably close to a mile.
From there, if I was lucky, I could just make the turn onto Cold Springs Lane, down that shorter, steeper, hill before I had to begin to pedal to pay for it all.
I was never without a friend once I learned to ride that bike.
I never shifted gears, rarely used the brake, and probably tore up lots of pairs of shoes.
Saturday, July 4, 1970
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