My grandparents bought this bike for me. There used to be this old house on Pontaluna Road that sold bikes. Their front lawn was covered with rows and rows of used, old, paint-chipped, banana-seated bikes that I would envy as we’d drive by {often pulling G & G camper behind us on our way to Hoffmaster State Park}. I remember stopping once and perusing the bikes. I’m sure this beauty came from there. I could be totally wrong…I’m sure Mom will clear up the fuzzy memories.
And, while I don’t remember riding this particular bike, I do remember the feeling of riding down our driveway, wind whipping my hair, the exhilaration building as I would near the end of the drive, and the turn onto the blacktop of Sullivan Road. Would I wipe-out? Would I have enough momentum to make the turn? Were there cars coming? In my mind, I was in a race. And I was winning the race, always.
You were so cute at that age, well you are still.