"Whoa, dude! How totally awesome was that? That rocked!"
Their voices shrieked and screamed as they went at break-neck speed, rolling down the grassy hillside of my neighbor's backyard. The children were all on their various rainbow-hued bicycles. They had formed a club -- the BFFBRT club (the Best Friends For Bike Riding Tricks club).
This "club" of children, ranging from ages 5 to 9, practiced their "death-defying tricks" with the stamina that only children can bring to an activity. "Wheelies" were popped. They stood on their bikes and simultaneously peddled. They steered their bikes with one hand. They peddled with one leg. They popped their bikes on the "butt bouncer" -- a set of gnarled maple tree roots, sticking out of the ground.
Yet, nothing was quite as exhilarating as this down-hill traverse.
I had to hand it to them. There was no way I would have done that -- not at my age, anyway! I am pretty certain I not only would have fallen off my bike on the way downhill, but also would have had to be rushed to the nearest emergency room for multiple broken bones. Yet, these pint-sized dare-devils were defying gravity (and death, as they frequently reminded each other) and they went full-throttle down the hill.
Soon, they were daring each other to try the back hill in my yard. "Let's start at the barn. We'll really burn rubber on this one!" Their words were said with such conviction as they wiped the sweat from their foreheads. Their faces were red and full of color that comes not only from a hot summer day, but from the childhood joy of being engaged in the feeling of a "magical event." Honestly, I just had to walk away to allow myself an indulgent laugh. Lord have mercy, how long ago was it when I was the little "daring devil?"
As I continued to watch them, memories filled my mind of hot, never-ending summer days in my own childhood neighborhood. While many of my friends who lived "out Solida Road" had only dirt or gravel roads on which to ride their bikes, I was lucky enough to have a black-top road on which to ride bikes with the kids that lived in our tiny cul-de-sac neighborhood hidden in the hills of Lawrence County.
Ah, we were quite the dare-devils in those days. With our cool, banana-seat bikes, gravity and death were most certainly defied on a daily basis in the summer. Many of the boys on my street had daily contests as to who could ride for the longest time in a wheelie formation. Then, there were the races. Who would be crowned king (or queen) of our neighborhood banana-seat bike world?
One summer, someone even made a ramp for us. These were the days of Evel Knievel. With his doll-likeness watching over us from a wooden fence, many of us dared to jump the ramp. I will freely admit -- I was outdone. Really, I was out of my league. I still had a fear of wrecking. I had gravel and blacktop embedded in my knee one too many times that had to be scraped out as I screamed in horror and pain. So, I tried the jumps within my "safe knee range" and watched the other stunt demons perform their tricks.
It was all going smoothly until one of the boys broke his leg. The ramp was put away for good that summer.
But that didn't stop our bike riding. As I became older, I was frequently granted permission to ride my bike to farther destinations. In fact, I became brave enough to ride on those gravel and dirt roads on which my friends lived. I would come home with dust-covered legs that had a visible line of demarcation when I removed my socks for my evening bath. It didn't bother me. I had felt the freedom and joy that comes when traveling on wheels -- just like these local munchkins were doing in my present-day life.
Recently, while my daughter's neighborhood friends were away at Myrtle Beach, she asked me to hop on my bike and ride along with her. Because I have the shortest legs in the world, my bike is actually a kid's fire-red MBX, complete with shock absorbers and multiple gears. I am sure I am quite a sight at age 42 when on-board my red flamer!
"Do a wheelie, Mom! Pop one! Ah, come on! Too weak for an ol' lady? How about the hill, Mom? Come on! Are you scared?"
Of course, she was just teasing me, but what if? Dare I attempt a wheelie? What about riding down that hill in front of our barn? For heaven's sake, what would people driving by on Ohio 243 think of an "old lady" attempting such stunts?
Did I try any of my daughter's aerobatics? Well, I am certain my daughter is mistaken when she said I could only pop my bike off the ground a few inches. I also feel confident I was air-bound for a few feet as I let out a big, "Whoopee!" as I soared down our barn hill, sailing into our front yard without any necessary trip to the ER. I say this with complete conviction, because when I woke up the next morning, my shoulders and legs were doing their own screaming as I tried to climb out of bed!
Honestly, what was I thinking?
I was thinking of those glory bike days of my long-past youth, when my biggest worry was which boy I was going to beat in the next bike contest!
May you have your own version of "Bike Days" before summer is over!
Stephanie Hill is a freelance writer and a kindergarten teacher at Burlington Elementary. She is also a lifelong resident of Lawrence County. She can be reached at hill992@zoominternet.net.
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