bicycles

 Bicycles have been around for a long time. Throughout the world, bikes can be found in different sizes, shapes, colors, and designs. For a lot of people, a bicycle has been a part of their story.

I don't remember how or where I got my first bike but I remember the bike. It was a 20"', big tire, steel frame, one speed bike, and no training wheels. Dad just told me to hold on, gave me a push, and said, "Pedal." I did and I'm still pedaling today.

I really went big time, however, when Dad brought home a Raleigh 3-speed. I don't know where Dad got bikes for us but my brothers and I really didn't seem to care. A bike was a bike, we were kids, and bikes were incredible vehicles of adventure. And Dad was a real hero. We never got new bikes, always used, but that didn't matter as long as they had two good tires that held air, the sky was the limit! And a motor was as inexpensive as one baseball card and a clothespin. Hey, when I put baseball cards in the spokes, the sound was like I was riding a mighty Harley. Balloons worked as well but the sound produced by baseball cards slapping the spokes lasted much longer. You know, after thinking about those Fleers and Topps baseball cards I used: Ted Williams, Hank Aaron, Phil Rizzuto, Roger Maris, Jackie Robinson, including one or two Mickey Mantle rookie cards. What was I thinking! I probably could have sold those things a few years ago and bought a Harley! 

I grew up in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania. At that time, Shrewsbury had about 813 very fortunate residents who were blessed to call it home. The town was, maybe, half a mile long on Main Street and, another maybe, a quarter of a mile wide. My bike took me everywhere and on every street and back alley in town. I rode to Shrewsbury Elementary School, the post office, Bricker's Hardware, Bowman's Ice Cream Shop, the Shrewsbury Bank, and anywhere else I wanted. I was a kid and I was free! Some days my adventures took me as far away as Glen Rock, New Freedom, and Railroad.

Now, as I'm getting ready to cross America again, I realize how fortunate I am. I'm getting ready, for the second time, to cross America. I am more excited about this second crossing than I was about the first. I think much of that excitement comes from the fact that I've done this before and what's out there is incredible. It's like it's calling me to another great adventure and I've gotta go. And, let's get this show on the road!

Did you know that Albert Einstein had some good things to say about bikes? (No, I did not go to school with him!) Supposedly he was the one who said, "Life is like riding a bicycle, to keep your balance, you must keep moving." Einstein on his theory of relativity said, "I thought of that while riding my bicycle." The only things Einstein and I may have in common are bicycles and hair. My hair usually looks just like his after a good ride! Actually, Margaret says my hair looks like that most of the time. Makes me look smarter! Other pretty smart guys pedaled, too: 

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race." -H. G. Wells

"You are one ride away from a good mood." -Sarah Bentley, British cyclist

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of riding a bike." -JFK

"Every ride is a tiny holiday." -anonymous

"To me, it doesn't matter whether it's raining or the sun is shining or whatever: as long as I'm riding a bike I know I'm the luckiest guy in the world." -Mark Cavendish, British professional cyclist

"There's something therapeutic about the smell of a bike shop." -anonymous (Might have been me!)

Speaking of bike shops, did you know the Wright Brothers pedaled before they flew? Yep. In 1892 the brothers opened their own bike shop in Dayton, Ohio. They not only sold bikes but they sold their bikes. They not only sold their bikes but they made them, as well, and offered two models: the VanCleve and the St. Clair. Wilbur and Orville later went on to planes and flew their first flight at the Outer Banks in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Pretty smart guys, those Wright Brothers. The shop still is operating and selling both models if you're interested. I went there, priced the bikes, and bought a t-shirt.

What you're about to read is something I wrote in 2012. I found out, back then, about a bike ride that is an important chapter of my family. I don't know what kind of bike it was. I'm not sure if it had skinny tires or fat tires, gears or single-speed, English or American. All I know was it was a very important bike and a very interesting story.

The story begins near East Berlin, Pennsylvania, almost 70 years ago, with a young man whose buddy had a girlfriend over in West York. And wouldn't you know she's got a cute friend--Nancy. There's a summer romance separated by 15 miles and a county line that was crossed again and again and again . . . on a bicycle. Richard, 20 years old at the time, was pedaling faithfully all the way, both ways, every day, and many times. There were dates to the bowling alley, then a ring, six kids, bunches of grandkids, ups and downs, and life together for 61 years!

Missy, the youngest of the couple's six children, said her parents met and fell in love as teenagers. Her dad often joked about his regular bicycle trips from his home to York, where Nancy lived. "I'm not even sure exactly how they met," Missy said. "But he would ride his bicycle down to see mom, I think, every night. They married young, started a family and made a home in Hanover. All of their children--three girls and three boys still live in the area. Getting by for years on just dad's truck-driver's salary, the family was hardly wealthy. But they did all they could for their children. I couldn't ask for a better set of parents."

With a lifetime of cherished memories, soon a black-and-white picture of the couple, holding one another and smiling at Richard's 80th birthday party, became another memory. That picture was used in the York Daily Record's obituary column. Twice.

Nancy, 77, died at home on a cold Sunday morning in Hanover. She died in her sleep, peacefully. The family met, cried, remembered. The clock on the wall said 12:25. They would now head to the York Hospital to deliver the bad news. Richard was not thinking as clearly as he was just days before. The family who feared that their dad would have to be put in a home--a place he'd often made them promise he'd never be taken--was listening as Richard was saying things no one could understand. Then they noticed, the clock in his hospital room was stuck on 12:25. He knew.

Family members tried to comfort him with words and water as he said over and over, "Pull me up." It continued that way for some time and finally there was a long, deep breath, a pause, and then theses words from a man who served his country in wartime, and then saw it from a truck's cab with his wife by his side. "Hold me tighter now." A minute later he was gone. Off to be with the woman he fell in love with 60-plus years ago. Two people unable to be apart.

I suppose I'm a little off the subject here except for the bike ride from East Berlin to York and back, but the story is on my heart and I'll surely not forget it. Nancy is my sister and Richard, we called him Dick, is my brother-in-law.

I didn't get to see them very often but family is always family. At the funeral and afterwards I spoke with family members as we laughed, cried, and caught up. Mostly we laughed because of the memories we shared. One of my favorite quotes is, "Memory is a wonderful treasure chest for those who know how to pack it." Well, Nancy and Dick had their treasure chest packed to the limit. It's still being enjoyed.

Nancy A. Trimmer 

July 3, 1934 - January 8, 2012

Richard C. Trimmer Sr. 

December 19, 1930 - January 8, 2012