Redartz: As we prepare to undertake another week's discussion, once again some thank you credits are due. In this case, the kudos go to HB, for prompting the idea for this topic in a recent comment. Well done, sir; it sure helps to have so many sources for inspiration when it comes to ideas for a post! And now, onward...
I'd bet a cold Dr. Pepper that most every one of us had some similar experiences, cruising the streets and trails on our Shwinn's and Huffy's in search of adventure, comics, or bottles to cash in. So now we get to revisit those heady days of speed, comradeship, and the occasional mean, chasing dog..
My adventuring days began once my parents finally lifted my range restrictions. For seeming eons, I was limited to riding from one end our our (rather lengthy) suburban street to the other end. But when they released me to the streets, I was off. My friends and I would ride to the drug store (for the obvious usuals: comics, baseball cards, candy bars or a Coke). We'd ride from one kid's house to another to another. We'd ride to school every now and then, passing on the normal daily bus ride.
In our neighborhood we had access to a great patch of woods along a river, winding to a gravel pit in one direction and downtown in the other. We would drag our bikes down to that trail along the river and ride over roots and rocks.
Our trail (on foot here, but you get the idea)
And this was years before anyone heard about 'mountain bikes'. It was especially cool to ride towards downtown, as you'd pass by a city park along the river; a perfect place to park the bikes for a rest and go hit the swings. It was even better if you'd packed a lunch ; that made for an epic summer afternoon. lying by the river, watching the sun glisten off the ripples (and off your shiny handlebars), enjoying the breeze, and 'shooting the breeze' with your pals.
My longest ride was with a good friend who lived in the next town. One Saturday morning we took off riding (his Dad was kind enough to cram my bike in their trunk when he picked me up for an overnight visit). We rode out of town, out into the country, and down one County road after another; just exploring, talking, and following nothing in particular. Eventually we made our way back into town, but only after my little mileage meter showed about 25 miles had expired. Looking back, I realize that there's really no better way to wander than on two wheels. Fast enough to actually get somewhere, but slow enough that you genuinely see your surroundings, feel the roadway and the grass, hear the birds. A road trip in a car takes you much farther, but keeps you insulated from that whole world out there.
But enough mental meanderings from me. What tales do you have of a bike, a buddy and a bit of road?
12 comments:
Given that I grew up in a pretty rural area, before turning 16 and getting a driver's license, biking was really the only game in town - or rather, the only way to get to the nearest town, which was about 3 miles away. Like you, when the distance restrictions were limited, I'd often hightail it to said town to meet with a friend who lived there, and then hit the two mom & pop corner shops to get comics and maybe some candy, and then go to his place to flip through them.
That same friend would occasionally ride out to my place, and we'd meet with a few other buddies who lived relatively nearby and traipse around in one of the local forests, or go to the St. Louis Ponds - this was a huge tract of land, a state park basically, half-way between where I lived and the nearest town that was set up by the Oregon Fish & Wildlife Department and the county. There were a number of man-made ponds stocked with fish for recreational fishers, and a bunch more in a remoter rear section of the park that were apparently used by the Oregon State U. biology department. We used to hike around there, and also go swimming in some of the smaller ponds that never seemed to get used by fishers (which was not allowed, of course).
Even later, when I was in my teens and even after getting my license, I still liked to just go off by myself on long bike rides on the weekends when the weather was nice.
So yeah, lots of nice memories tied to the good-old two-wheeled means of transport.
I grew up in a rural area, too (still live there). Back in those days, you knew just about everyone in town and they knew you. There's a community college in town and it pretty much shut down during the summers, so the roads were open game, not to mention the campus. We went all over town and all over the campus (most of the buildings were unlocked most days and nights, so we knew a lot of the buildings front and back).....there was a lot to do and see for a kid. There was a store with comic books and I can still remember going there on Saturdays with a dollar in my pocket. It's amazing that our parents had no idea where we were most of the time from maybe nine in the morning until dusk. It's also amazing how many things that we had to do during that same span of time every day.
We moved to a new house in ‘73 and about a block away was a neighborhood that had been razed to make room for the 118 freeway. The paved street and the sidewalks on both sides of it were still there but the houses and all the vegetation were just GONE — it was kinda eerie, like something from the Twilight Zone. It was closed off at both ends to connecting traffic, so for about 8 months (until the next stage of freeway construction) it was a great place to race our bikes and jump off the driveway ramps without fear of getting hit by oncoming cars.
There was one empty lot where the house had been built on a small hill — at one edge of the property was a steep, fifteen or twenty-foot drop down to the street level. We’d walk our bikes up to the top level and to the farthest corner of the lot, then pedal as fast as we could to the cliff and jump our bikes off into the abyss. We’d be airborne for a few seconds, make contact with the incline about halfway down, and if we managed to stay upright, we’d whoosh down the rest of the way at a pretty good clip and out onto the sidewalk. But it was a really rough and lumpy hill, so we’d wipe out more often than not. I think I made it without cracking up just one time. And we weren’t riding BMX or dirt bikes, these were just plain old Stingrays and 10-speeds. Looking back now, it’s incredible none of us were seriously injured!
BTW, that pic of E.T. and the gang you posted — it just so happens that on that same street, about three blocks away from the point where the boys lift off, is the corner liquor store where I bought many a comic on the way home from school. :)
b.t.
To be sure, I shared the adventures the other gents have written about, traveling far and wide, jumping obstacles, etc. So, I’ll throw out something perhaps unique.
I grew up about a block off Lake Michigan among woods and sand dunes and a sparse population.
When the St. Lawrence Seaway was connected to the Great Lakes in the late 1950s, billions of fish called Eel Wives flooded in from the Atlantic Ocean only to start dying in fresh water by the tens of thousands daily (!) along the shores of Lake Michigan. The fish are about 6” long, a few inches wide.
So for fun we would ride our bikes up and down the lake shore popping wheelies and coming down on the dead fish. Guts splattering everywhere.
Yep! It’s pretty gross. But at 10 years old, it seemed like a fun thing to do!
Good heavens, I can't believe how late I am to the very party I suggested--! (The old, pre-Covid life is starting to crank back up-- which is clearly going to lead to several weeks of double-life responsibilities as the transition occurs. . . )
And yup, you fellas are already confirming a Theory of Ridin' Around On Bikes that had sprouted in the back of my mind: On a bike, there's no such thing as trespassing. Unless there's an immovable, impenetrable barrier blocking the way, you're clearly allowed to ride your bike. . . well, ANYWHERE. "The gate's locked." "Yeah, but see? There's a gap next to the post a foot wide. ANYBODY could get through this-- it's not blocked." "Hey, yeah! You're right, let's go-!" It's hilarious 'cause Edo, bt, Graham-- all three of you cite something exactly like this-! (Charlie, I assume fish-squishing simply wasn't a prohibited activity-- nor were bikes on the beach--) [*And OMG Charlie, as an aside, we NEVER KNEW what the deal was with those flippin' thousands of dead fish that would utterly choke the beaches at Warren Dunes for miles and miles. About a third of the time we'd go to that state park, it was a horror show. And everybody KEPT SWIMMING in them!!]
If you didn't have to physically get off your bike, it was practically an open invitation. So little Cassopolis, Michigan that meant EVERY parking lot, including the Ford Dealership; two local gravel pits; the fair grounds, including inside the grandstand bleachers and the race track; the construction site for the new high school; the seawall around the perimeter of Diamond Lake's residential area (which technically WAS trespassing, because that's completely private property-- it just looks like a sidewalk--); out on docks and piers; onto any number of farms; through private woods (somehow assuming NO TRESPASSING signs were a suggestion, at most--). I recall taking our bikes inside the Catholic church at one point. Sunday mornings were particularly unencumbered (if I avoided church) because NOTHING was open in that little burg until noon-- so it was like having a bike-friendly ghost town all to ourselves.
Annnnnd I'll sign off for the moment, and hope to be back a bit later--
Gotta go be a volunteer. . . and my partner for the day has unexpectedly texted in absent. . . oy--!
HB
Edo- ah, you were wiser than I- keeping your bike after you got your license. Wish I'd done the same...
Graham- as you noted, our parents were generally unaware of our actions and our locations for hours on end. How times have changed. When my kids were young, I kept a much tighter rein. Was that the correct approach? A tough call...
B.t.- your 'ghost neighborhood ' must have been irresistible to kids for blocks around. What a booking park! And a cool anecdote about your corner store!
Charlie- oog, squishing fish? I probably would have tried to avoid them. A bit more squeamish than the typical 10 year old. Lol!
HB- you're right, kids on bikes could find their way (our way) into almost anywhere. But you may have the topper so far; never heard anyone else who took their bike INTO church! Impressive...
Red, re: keeping my bike. Well, in my teens I had actually graduated to one of my older siblings' ten speeds, as I had grown out of the bike I was using earlier (a 3-speed that was also a hand-me down).
HB, on the topic of trespassing, I think it goes without saying: those forests I mentioned above were all on private property, so we were always trespassing but never gave it a second thought. Interestingly enough, there were very few 'No Trespassing' signs posted in the wider area where I grew up. Usually you'd see them on the edge of property that was already fenced off. None of the big fields of produce (or hops) worked by the local farmers in the area ever had an kind of signs posted. It was just understood.
That reminds me of something else, though (apologies for the digression): back when I was still in my preteens in the 1970s, one of the local 'crops' was a type of grass grown for seed. In the spring and early summer, if you were driving past one of the big grassy fields, you could often see a few scruffy-looking hippy types slowly walking through them intently staring at the ground. My mom and dad would laugh when they saw them, and my dad later told us kids that they were looking for magic mushrooms (Psilocybin). I guess they took the lack of a 'No Trespassing' sign as an open invitation for fungal harvesting.
Ahh, the weekend family/neighbor bike ride. Before restrictions were lifted that was the only way to go beyond the set perimeters. My Mom usually set the ride up with my siblings and the neighbor kids. Was cool riding by places you only seen from the inside of a car!
Once boundaries were expanded, like many have said, so did my comic experience.
The local Drug Store where I did my original comic buying could sometimes be hit or miss on some titles, finding another drug store a couple miles out was a boon!
Bikes have always been part of me. In my twenties I would visit different states doing organized tours. Now I ride parks during the "good" months for leisure and quiet time, no phone, no screens, just the sights and smells of nature.
HB - regarding the Great Lakes and tens of thousands of ale wives dying off daily...
The St. Lawrence Seaway in the late 50s allowed for the migration of Ale Wives and Lamprey Eels from the Atlantic to come in and wreak havoc.
In response King Salmon, Coho Salmon, etc. were introduced annually into the Lakes to eat them. These fish do not spawn in the Lakes so they must be introduced annually as fishlings.
The problem is that once the big fish have eaten the Ale Wives they turn on the desirable fish like very tasty Perch. It is a continual process to keep a balance among this unnatural arrangement.
The Lamprey is one ugly thing. It's basically a big snake with a mouth full of concentric rings of suckers. I've caught big fish in Lake Michigan only to be disgusted finding a two - three foot eel attached to it, sucking the life out. It's kind of unholy. NOthing eats the lamprey so it has free reign if it reaches adult hood.
Now, the Lake shore looks clean like drinking water. The zebra mollusks which came in from ships' bilge water from the Caspian Sea in the 1990s filter out all the plankton; no fish survive due to lack of food where there are aggregations of the Zebra Mollusks. They have no predator either.
And we are all awaiting the inevitable arrival of the Asian Carp. It's just a matter of time. Those things kill people. They are huge, come jumping out of the water when a boat passes, and have killed humans with head strikes. You can youtube "Asain Carp The Illinois River." A three footer came flying out of the water almost whacking my brother as he walked along the river walk in Peoria, lol.
CH47--
Best.
Tangent Expansion.
EVER!!!
Thank you-- a truly terrific report. Plus solid reminder of the awful results of inadvertently introducing non-native predatory species to an ecosystem. . .
On the bicycle front-- as fate would have it, HBWife and I are going to go on our first one of the new season this morning! We've been creaking around on the same matching Raleigh 10-speed "suburban" style bikes that we bought with our collected Wedding Present money 32 (!!!) years ago. My bike in particular sounds like a Hanna-Barbera unicycle sound-effect as it chugs along. Both bikes get furtive disapproving glances (and sometimes openly disdainful ones!) from the "serious" biking types we encounter-- but heck, we have a FINE time, she & I! We're the classic embarrassing middle-agers who can still pop out a 25 mile ride w/out any particular preparation. Mind you-- we'll be comatose for the rest of the day. . .
HB
To Anonymous that wrote about the unfinished 118 and E.T.'s neighborhood - I grew up right there, too! (Granada Hills, right?). Crazy! We used to ride our bikes in the power line fields before they dug it all out for the freeway. Was Mike's Liquor where you got your comics??
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