My life on two wheels, part one
By Stanley Trulock
Glenwood Springs
I’m free! That was what I was feeling when my dad let loose of the back of my bicycle seat as I wobbled down Fair Street. He had been holding on and keeping me upright as I learned to peddle the 20-inch red bike that my Uncle Mel had given me. It had been my cousin Dorothy’s and she had outgrown it. It was a girls model that my parents and he figured would be good for me to learn on as it didn’t have that pesky crossbar that I could damage myself on when I bailed off.
If my memory is correct, it took a couple of hours in the late afternoon or early evening of my dad following me up and down the street before he finally let go and I began my life on two wheels.
It was 1955, and I was five years old. We lived on the corner of Church and Fair Street, where my parents had a candy store and a dry cleaning pick-up and delivery business. Church was a main sort of street that ran from downtown to the West End, so it had a bit of traffic. Fair was a side street that had very little traffic.
After I was able to ride/wobble on my own I was told that I could ride on Fair between Church and Washington, one block, but only if my mom or dad were watching. I don’t know how long that lasted. However, eventually I was able to ride on my own, but still just one block. Ronnie Clow, our neighbor, saw and started riding with me. He was two years older, had a big bike and taught me how to skid the back tire with the brakes. He also convinced me to ride past Washington Street one block to the railroad tracks.
Soon, I was granted permission to ride to the end of the block, turn left, ride to Miller Street (one block), turn left and ride up to Church Street. I then had to turn around and ride back home. I could do this as many times as I wanted, but I was NEVER to ride on Church — under penalty of losing my bike privileges. I did that a lot and occasionally turned onto Glen Park Drive from Miller to do a couple of laps around the park.
I did that one day and then got back on Miller. As I was approaching Church, I noticed either someone new had moved in or whoever lived there had gotten a new dog. Whatever the case, the dog didn’t like me riding by. It ran out, latched onto my left leg and wouldn’t let go until I dropped my bike and started kicking it with my right foot. Meanwhile, I was screaming in pain and scared. The dog let loose and ran away. I noticed I was bleeding and needed to get home. It would be faster if I rode on Church Street, so I did.
Fortunately, dad was home with the car and I was off to the hospital for another long line of tetanus shots. I continued to explore the neighborhood north of Church, west to Mattis Avenue and east to McKinley Avenue. But, I did my best to stay away from barking dogs.
In 1956, I started first grade at Doctor Howard School. I would walk to school with my sister Vicki as she was older and my parents figured she would keep me from walking out into traffic.
When I got home, if it was nice, I would grab my bike and continue exploring. I would ride to Washington and go west to Mattis, then turn around and ride to McKinley — back and forth until dinner. I did that so many times that I still dream about it.
Halfway through second grade, my folks closed the candy store and moved to the Southwest edge of town. Where we moved to was just starting to be developed, so I had a whole new world to explore as well as a creek behind our house. The creek cut into my bike riding time a bit, but given a choice between riding and walking, the bike won most of the time. Besides, you can only catch so many crawdads.
The streets were tar and gravel, so I learned about turning in loose gravel after eight or nine years of my knees and elbows having scabs most of the spring and summer. More tetanus shots.
I learned shortcuts, like when the street ended at a cornfield, but the tough part was when it ended at the creek. I would ride/push along the bank until I found a place that looked shallow and narrow enough to try wading across, find a new street and continue exploring with my U.S. Keds squishing muddy water and silt. Fortunately they were going great guns in building streets, houses and finally a bridge so I could ride all the way to Mattis Avenue where Southwood Drive ended.
There was a farm across Mattis, so I had to turn right or left. That opened up a whole new world to check out. If I turned right, I would be heading out into the country and I didn’t know what was there: corn, beans, cows, pigs and possibly wild animals. Left took me towards civilization, up to Kirby where there was a Texaco gas station I could put air in my tires, get a candy bar if I had a nickel (which wasn’t very often) and look at all the new neighborhoods that were sprouting up, making a note that I had to explore them soon.
To be continued…