Keep On Truckin’ Babe

Keep On Truckin’ Babe

I remember it quite clearly. It was Christmas, and my family didn’t have much money. But there beneath the tree in the early morning was a single-speed bicycle. Gold, like the sun. It was everything to me.

I went everywhere on that thing. It transformed my life more than a driver’s license did. Because no matter what I did, where I went, a car was just transportation. That bicycle was a ride. 

4 thoughts on “Keep On Truckin’ Babe

  1. Four wheels move the body; two wheels move the soul. And a single speed bike holds the magic like a genie in a bottle. Just grab the bars to release it.
    Had to miss an antique bike run today- Mom is not well. That’s OK. I can take the B6 out for a local cruise. No post apocalyptic BMX, just a roll through the neighborhood.


  2. My parents rented (I guess–I can’t imagine Mrs. Montgomery giving them free use, but I don’t actually know)an extra garage where (I accidentally discovered) they repainted a bicycle of unknown source.

    (I caused them some distress when they found out that I had found out.

    I learned to ride on that bike, but I didn’t have it long–somebody cut the chain and stole it. (Seems like it was recovered from somebody not far away, stripped and parted. And I or we must have rebuilt it.)

    I don’t remember getting a brand new bicycle until I was an adult.

    But I might be wrong.

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