CYCLING LEGACIES

For so many of us, cycling starts because it was introduced to us by our families. Often a parent, older sibling or other family member would take us out for bicycle rides. My father visited this Thanksgiving and I started recalling so many of the fun cycling memories of my youth. My father worked hard to teach me how to ride a bike so that we could go on bicycling adventures together. We would go camping, taking our bikes with us so that we could explore the surrounding wilderness with the hopes that our bikes could outrun some of the larger wildlife if need be. My own father was introduced to cycling by his dad and a small childhood trauma turned into a lifetime love.

Great Grandfather on his cool ride and my Dad on his J.C. Higgins



When my father was six years old he wanted a pair of guns just like the Lone Ranger's for his birthday. His father had another idea and decided to buy him "the only bike he would ever need his entire life"; a 1951 J. C. Higgins adult bike from Sears. The bike was a single speed with fenders and was so tall my father had to step on a bucket to mount the bike and had to use wood blocks on the pedals so his feet could reach them. The process of stopping the bike entailed either somehow getting back to that bucket in the field or falling over. He had that bike all through college, rebuilding and repainting it several times -including University of Illinois Orange and Blue-. My father deeply regrets throwing that bike away in the junkyard but his love of cycling lives on to this day (just look in his garage!)

With memories like this swirling about my head I went on a side errand (getting a much needed haircut) which led me to Hot Rod's Chop Shop. (Cycling coolness factor of Hot Rod's place is that he is right across the street from OneSpeed (Pizza Bikes Love) Restaurant. More on them in a future blog but right now we are talking about Hot Rod's. The first thing that I notice when I walked in the barber shop was an antique bike suspended from the ceiling. All of the other decor of the shop was hot rod so I knew there was something up with the bike. Hot Rod (aka Mike Acri, owner of the shop) started trimming my hair and the story of the bike unfolded.

Acri's bike hangs in Hot Rod's Chop Shop

The bike belong to Mike's father when he lived in San Francisco in an era when bicycles were registered vehicles. The 1948 Schwinn still had the original lock on it that his father had used as a child. His uncle had the same bike in a different color. When Mike's father passed away he found the bike abandoned in a shed and decided to reclaim it. He considered restoring it but decided to leave it as it was. "It has a nice patina, just like me." Mike said wryly. As a child growing up in South San Francisco, Mike raced BMX, sponsored by a family bike shop in Redwood City. As my hair took it's more aerodynamic racing form under Mike's skilled hands he ended his story by admitting that he tried to get back into the mountain bike saddle last year but found it hard to find the time to keep it up. I hope that perhaps recalling memories of the past may give Mike a second wind to get back to it.


Talking with my wife about her interest in bicycling, it was long family rides on the American River Bike Trail with her family that started her love of cycling. She recounted riding more and more on her own as her parents became too busy to ride. She taught herself to ride without hands so that she could go to the store and carry back the groceries. She remembers sneaking into a local high school on the weekends and riding her bike up and down the stairs when no one was there to see. (She cautions the kids that this was a DUMB thing to do but can't help her little side smile as she tries to sound stern.)

Cassie and her Trek collection



Now it is our turn to build a cycling legacy for our kids. Not all of the Grove Tribe may become cyclists but some of them are riding with us. Asking for rides whenever there is a clear enough day. We are building our own memories. Like when our daughter biffed it on the South Canal bike trail. We bandaged her knee with a head scarf and had to ride 6 miles back to the car. I am proud of her for getting back into the saddle, almost as proud as she is of her road rash scars. (She begged us to take a picture of the now healed knee but the true glory of her battle scars just don't translate well onto the pixel canvas.)

So if you are not sure what to get your kid for Christmas, why not start a legacy and get them a bike and in 20, 30, 40 years they will be telling the tales of their own cycling legacy.