Your First Bike

Life in the Bike Lane

Tom Frady

Most of you out there in the Bike Lane Army (BLA) have had a bike for some part of your life.  I’m guessing you remember your first bike.  Or the one that changed riding from transportation to passion.

Maybe it was a shiny new Stingray with a banana seat or a hand-me-down that had seen better days.  That bicycle was more than metal and rubber.  It was freedom.

No longer were we confined to our driveway; we could get to the end of the block.  Our neighborhood was expanded and we were no longer just a passenger. As our bikes got more sophisticated, we could travel farther – maybe even downtown.

I’m not sure we can classify a tricycle as a “first bike”, but it was my first wheels. It was nearly devoid of paint, had some sort of metal seat and no tire on the front rim. What a racket it made!

My first two-wheeler was what we now call a “fixie”, handed down from my sister.  No gears.  No brakes.  No coasting.  No problem.  I learned to ride on this potential death machine.  My dad ran along beside me, steadying me by holding on to the seat – until he wasn’t and I was actually riding.

My next bike, was a big, heavy, balloon-tired cruiser with a big spring on the front that allowed some bump absorption for the handlebars.  I was 7 and had difficulty with it because it was so big. Frankly, I barely remember riding it.

Ah, my first real road bike.  A beautiful, blue, Sturmey-Archer 3-speed steed. “Royale Sabre” brand.  My family opened family gifts on Christmas Eve and Santa gifts in the morning.  I was disappointed to not get a bike on Christmas Eve and obviously showed it.  My grandmother felt so bad, she sneaked me out to the garage where the bike was hidden for the morning.  I took a quick ride around the block in the dark, then had to pretend to be surprised in the morning.

I rode that bike everywhere: ruined a crochet set playing polo in a cul-de-sac, put cards on the spokes, made jumping ramps out of stray pieces of plywood and rode it down the side of a steep hill. It was my mode of transportation for my paper route.

A favorite game of ours was to come barreling down the street into the cul-de-sac, pretend to get shot, jump into a pile of inner tubes, sending the bike into a wall of cardboard boxes.

I eventually took it with me to college, where it literally fell apart. I consider the Royale Sabre my first bike.

I borrowed a bike in college to go on a bike ride with friends after finals.  I was hit head-on by a car.  I was not seriously hurt, but the bike was so smashed up it fit in the trunk of the TR3.

Later in life, I had a Schwinn Varsity that I stripped down and repainted a couple of times.  I rode my new Giant Sedona Mountain Bike down the Downieville Downhill route, totally unprepared for how technical it was (I made it).

My first legitimate road bike, and the one that took me on the ride from SF to LA that made me an avid cyclist, was a Bianchi Eros, bought over the phone, sight unseen.  While just a step above entry level, this is bike that is responsible for generating my passion for cycling.

My Giant OCR Limited introduced me to carbon fiber and made the SF to LA trip 13 more times.  It had just short of 100,000 miles on it when it met its demise just a couple of years ago.

My primary ride for the last 6 years has been a Giant Defy Advanced Pro 0, a better bike than I am a rider.

We probably didn’t think about it at the time, but that first bicycle taught us something important: independence feels great. And some of us are still chasing that feeling.