Speeding Through the Neighborhood

At the end of a long winter shoveling snow and being cooped up inside the house, I have visions of warm spring days with robins chirping on the lawn and sunny daffodils swaying in the breeze.  I also yearn to ride my bike.

Riding bikes has been a favorite pastime of mine for as long as I can remember.  In our family photo collection are pictures of my brother Kurt and me riding bikes, and I have fond memories of us riding our tricycles several blocks away to the tiny Voss's neighborhood store on Douglas Avenue.

When I was eight years old, I graduated to a brand new Schwinn.  Then, one glorious day while riding my bike around and around the block on the west side of Naperville, several other kids from our neighborhood joined me with an assortment of bikes and wagons.  We had an impromptu parade up and down Fremont Street.  Late in the afternoon as the others started heading home, Mom came out of the garage riding my old bike.  Mom?

"I'll race you," Mom said, taking off down the street.

No way!  I couldn't let Mom bet me!  I sped down the gravel street in front of our house and about half way around the block, I passed her up.  Mom was laughing.  I was laughing.  As we turned the last corner to go home, I turned around to see how far Mom was behind me.  That's when my front tire hit a stone and I went sailing over the handlebars.  Mom felt guilty, thinking she was responsible, but I couldn't help thinking how much fun it was riding bikes with Mom.

Now that I'm older, I have a recumbent with a cushy padded seat and a back rest so I can comfortably ride down Naperville's bike trails, like the one in Pioneer Park.  If you see me, a little old lady with white hair, speeding down the trails, please don't forget to give me a wave.