Re-cycled

{My new bike.}

My first bike was a pink Huffy with dark pink flowers on its banana seat.  To brake, you had to push backwards with your feet. I once flew down a steep hill on that bike and landed face-first on a log.  It was my first real injury and I remember my Father was taking a nap as my face swelled up to the point I couldn't eat my corn dog for dinner.  I was hungry and mad and woke him up, Dad, how can you sleep at a time like this?  Don't you care about me?

Remember, I was six and couldn't fathom what anyone in the world had to do except worry over me.

Now I have this bike, a treasure that was once buried under rust and broken wires, brought back to life by a kind neighbor.  It's chocolate brown and chrome and from the 70s.  Sold.

I feel like I'm 10-years-old again and ready to ride back roads to the drug store for a strawberry Clearly Canadian and a package of Fun Dip.  If I have enough left over from my allowance, maybe I can get grape Bubblicious, too.  Or a tube of LipSmackers.