The Summer Pace, Building Bikes, and Memories

As summer winds down, families everywhere begin to readjust to the upcoming school year.  Whether you are a manager, business owner, machinist, stay at home parent, or teacher, summer just has a different pace.  Not only do our kids seem to have a different structure in their day, but we as adults do as well.  Our sleep patterns change, we often consume too many late night snacks, and attend numerous cook-outs.  We are always on the go.  In many cases the pace of summer feels like the music soundtrack from The Smokey and the Bandit, with the song lyrics, “I’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there.”   Summer is busy.  Summer is hectic.  However most importantly, summer is a time to build remarkable memories.  

One of the really neat experiences of being a father is being able to relive your own childhood times with your own children.  As a kid, I remember having to bail hay, mow the grass, and weed the garden.  As a kid, I remember having to sit on the porch and shell kidney beans, snap green beans, and husk corn.  Sometimes doing this while other kids were riding around the block on their bikes or mopeds.  Sometimes, I didn’t get it.  Okay, more than sometimes.  At that point, like most kids today, I wanted to play.  I wanted to ride.  I didn’t want to do those chores.  Now being a father myself, I understand, that is all about building lasting memories.   

Growing up, like many of kids today, my father didn’t get summers off.  He was a truck driver.  He was gone six days a week.  He worked 16 hour days.  So that left my siblings and I with the list of chores that we were to accomplish.  However, when it was play time, Game On!  As a kid, I loved being able to  play from sun up to sun down when permitted.  I remember riding bikes all over town, to neighboring towns sometimes 5-10 miles to play ball and swim.  I remember it being no big deal to tear your bike apart just to put it back together.  I remember patching tires, taking links out or chains, putting baseball cards with clothespins in the spokes for that perfect sound.  I remember building our own ramps and riding off road courses long before the BMX and  X Games’ phenomenon.  

So when Kendall and Reese asked me why I never ride my bike anymore, I thought, great question.  So down to the basement I went, dragging my bike out.  With two flat tires and storage dust, I was going to relive my childhood with my own children.  Just a couple problems arose.  While one tired pumped up easily, the other didn’t seem to be taking any air.  After many futile attempts, and questions and advice from the family, I decided it must be that my pump couldn’t generate enough pressure.  So Reese and I took a roadtrip.  Thanks to Mullett Tire Services they discovered my inner tube had a massive hole in it, thus explaining why it wouldn’t hold air.  Next stop, Walmart.

Well, things have certainly changed with bicycles.  Thinking I will just grab a quick inner tube, I was surprised by the vast amounts, brands, and sizes.  Luckily, Reese and I got the correct one.  It was now time to demonstrate to my kids how we, “used to do it back in the day.”  

As the girls were spinning their wheels around the drive and laying down rubber, they continuously checked on my progress.  They seemed to notice my struggle with getting the new tube in and offered their suggestions.  As I was growing more and more agitated, my first thought was back to my time as a kid,  all the time recalling, “This can’t be that hard.  I did this as a kid.”  My second thought was that I remember always asking my dad while he was fixing things if he was done yet, or grabbing a tool and asking how it worked, even mimicking what he was doing while working on a car.  I remember him sometimes, seeming agitated, but always taking the time to show, tell, and teach me what he was doing.  What a tremendous lesson that has been for me.

With the tube in place, tire inflated and replaced it was time to give it a spin.  There lies the next problem.  My brakes were worn, good thing we didn’t hit the hills and trails right off the get-go.  So it was back to the drawing board, some reversals and swapping of the brake pads, and we were going to be back in action.  Of course that brought the questions of “What are you doing Dad?” and “Can you check my brakes?”  With all brakes checked we were seemingly all set.  Notice, I did say seemingly.  

After a few laps around the driveway, we decided to hit the cul-de-sac lane we live on for more riding adventures.  Once again, all seemed well.  We were cruising around when Kendall made the observation that her seat was too low, and her knees were hitting her handlebars.  Back to the garage we headed.  I was eagerly thinking,  “Great! Dad has another opportunity to show you how he used to do things.”  Grabbing the toolkit of wrenches, this surely would be no problem, after all, I had changed seats and handlebars as a kid multiple times.  In fact, I got to retell the story of how my friends and I built two chopper bikes from scraps.  This dad was in his heyday!  

I did mention earlier how bikes have certainly changed, right?  Kendall and Reese were handling the wrenches, and asking, “ Is this a 5/8’s?” and “Are you sure you know what you are doing?”  Then, after consulting some direction manuals for assistance, we quickly had five bolts loosened and clips unattached.  The handlebars and seats were raised, and with no spare parts on the driveway, we were finally ready.  It was time to let the rides begin because we had some remarkable memories to make.    

Monthly Challenge:

Engage your memory. Think about your summer pace and take time to share your childhood memories and stories of your bike riding days.  If so inclined, dust off the seat, pump up the tires and make new memories with your family.  

Monthly Quote:

“Life is like riding a bicycle: you don't fall off unless you stop pedaling.” - Claude Pepper, American Politician