September 28, 2007
-
Autumn
I probably tell this story every year, but I'm too lazy to to back and look and see if I'm repeating myself. I'd rather just repeat myself.
I grew up in Houston, Texas, a place not known for it's long winters. Thus, for me as a kid, autumn really began in November. And my birthday is at the end of November, so autumn reminds me of getting a bike for my birthday.
It was a Fuji 10-speed. Red. It had aluminum alloy everything. After the heat of the long, terrible summer, the aluminum would suck the heat right out of you, just as the oncoming winter sucked the green from the leaves.
The gentle whir of the chain against the cogs, the small grinding whoosh of the tires on the pavement... I'd close my eyes to force out the tears from the chilly air against my eyeballs. Live oak leaves in various stages of decomposition on the ground, and falling through the air around me.
The absolute freshness of the bike. The handlebar wrappings brand new under my hands. No squeaks or rattles. No grinding sounds. Just the purity of riding a bike assembled a few days ago by a real mechanic.
It's easy to imagine things. That any of these sensations are important, for instance. Or that I was in a race, or that I was actually going somewhere. Just in circles, around the block, around the neighborhood.
The next summer, age 13 I suppose, I rode out to Highway 6. A four or five mile trip, I guess. Most of it on the access road of the I-10 freeway, a place no biker should ever ride now, but back then, things were different. I told my parents where I was going, and they fretted and wrang their hands and made me wear a backpack with one of those reuseable ice block things in it, to keep me cool on my journey. As if. It wasn't a conscious choice, I don't think, but after that I seldom mentioned where I was going to my parents. The trip to Highway 6 became one I repeated often, using back roads through the suburbs.
Gradually, the Fuji lost its shine, though it always felt good to ride. Autumn is comfortable that way... Face the sun when it shows itself through the clouds, warm yourself when you get the chance. The newness is over, kid.
At this point in history, there's a somewhat new bike trail that goes from near where I grew up, out to Highway 6, following Buffalo Bayou. I have yet to ride it, though I've walked some of it. I'm headed to Houston for Thanksgiving, and I suppose it's a must that I bring my bike.
Comments (6)
I bought this old Fuji six months ago - the classic - still trying to get around to the restoration ---
every year, before Christmas, I help here with a project that builds bikes and gives them away to kids whose families could not otherwise afford them. so, i very much understand this post, and want to share this with kids, as many as possible. the freedom and possibilities a bike gives to a kid.
Hope you ride it soon, though walking is always good, too--you can savor it.
esp. liked th "assembled a few days ago by a real mechanic". That, plus the knowledge of the fact may be the key to a memorable biking experience. Ride on
I remember the Fugi 10-speed. I think I even had one in my possession for a while--not mine, but one that someone left at the parent's house. Ah, those were the days, those were the times. Mine was a World Traveler--made by Schwinn but a little lighter and with better components, and I loved the heck outta that bike. I also have a late November birthday, so can associate with those memories too (though I was a bit farther north--sometimes it was fall, sometimes it was winter).
I wish my first bike had been assembled by a real mechanic.... my dad put mine together, and I have a vivid memory of my first attempt at a wheelie. Me and the handlebars flying backwards, while the bike rolls along its merry way o_O
Comments are closed.