Getting a bicycle for Christmas opened up a whole new world. My brothers and I each got one—Bruce and I with 26-inch bikes, and Dennis with a smaller one. It only took a few days to learn a hard lesson. Dennis left his bike outside one night, and by morning, it was gone. After that, Dad got us locks, and we never made that mistake again.
With our bikes, the school passageways that we used to rollerskate through became our new riding grounds. Since Dennis lost his bike, I’d sometimes let him ride on my handlebars. As I got more confident, I started learning tricks—jumping curbs was my favorite.
One day, feeling bold, I tried jumping a curb with Dennis on the handlebars. Big mistake. Dennis flew off, landing face-first on the pavement. He came up with a bloody nose and a fat lip. I rushed him home, where Mom patched him up and gave me a firm warning: no more stunt riding with passengers.
Dennis walked around with a swollen lip for a week. I don’t think he ever wanted to ride on my handlebars again.
Would you love to hear more of these childhood misadventures?
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