Schwinn Mishaps

Childhood Memory – Christmas 2008

by Brandon Alley

“There he goes!” Ben cried.

“He’s getting away!”

Marc and Ben stood there on the front porch pointing and staring for a second or two in disbelief as I rode off on one of their Schwinn bikes. This was not just any bike. No, no…this black beauty was complete with knobby tires and a sleek BMX racing seat (different than the big banana seat for lesser sissies) and perfect for hard-core terrain. Perhaps the most significant (and depressing) feature of this bike was that it did not belong to me. Both my older brothers received these identical Schwinn bikes as previous Christmas gifts. Did I get one? Oh no. My parents had confined me to the little blue hand-me-down bike more suitable for kids just beyond the toddler stage. This was the same bike that I had learned to ride without training wheels a couple of years earlier. I had long-since outgrown this bike and was ready to graduate to a bigger, better bike…perhaps a Schwinn.

It wasn’t fair, but I was used to getting the shaft. I was the middle child and almost eight. Therefore, I was frequently deprived of more senior privileges such as staying up late or watching PG-rated movies. I still recall the day when we all went to the movie theater to see Star Wars for the first time. Marc and Ben went to one theater with Dad, while I was escorted against my will to the adjacent theater with Mom to watch Pete’s Dragon. Apparently, I just wasn’t “old enough” for Star Wars. I quickly realized that my viewing of Star Wars that day was never part of the plan; only a figment of my imagination. I still recall how shocked and upset I was at this blatant act of betrayal by my parents.

In my defense, I had asked both Ben and Marc if I could borrow one of the bikes. I think their initial reaction was laughter at my audacious and naïve request. As soon as it was clear that I would not have my way, I objected and went into hysterics about how my life just wasn’t fair, and that is when I came up with my devious plan. I have to admit…it wasn’t much of a plan. It consisted of stealing (or borrowing) property that did not belong to me and absconding. I had simply decided that if they wouldn’t share with me then I would impose my own justice to better my present circumstance. So there I was pumping the pedals as fast as I possibly could as I began to make my way up the middle of Princeton Avenue. Riding this bike was exhilarating! It was so much faster than my piddly blue one. The wind rushed through my hair as I zoomed up the street where huge maple trees formed one large canopy overhead. Then I heard it as clear as a bell and the bliss temporarily ended.

“Let’s get Mom and Dad’s ten speeds and get him!”

Like I said, I did not have much of a plan and I had not anticipated that they would find out, let alone, chase me on Mom and Dad’s ten speed bikes (which by the way, I’m pretty sure they did not have prior permission to borrow). I quickly looked back to see my brothers jumping off the front porch and scrambling in the direction of the garage to retrieve Mom and Dad’s bikes no doubt. Marc and Ben were only a year apart in age and they were both competitive. Therefore, fights and disagreements between them were common at our house and on more than one occasion one of them emerged battered and bruised. But not this time. In this moment they worked together and they moved with fluidity. They had one common purpose and that was to capture this thieving perpetrator. Besides, it would be a blow to both of them if they let their little brother get away with such an atrocity.

My heart was racing from the adrenaline, which must’ve helped me pedal just a little faster because a short moment later I was turning left at the top of Princeton. I had gotten quite a head start on them and I knew that if I kept at it, I just might have a chance at losing them and enjoying my bike ride. I quickly turned around before taking a random right turn at Yale Avenue a couple of streets north of Princeton, and though they were gaining on me they were still a good distance behind me. Yale Avenue was lined with larger homes than Princeton and had a slight incline, which led to Bonneville Elementary where we attended school. At the top of Yale I again turned back and saw that these persistent buggers were closer yet and still gaining! I took a right turn and then another quick right at Harvard Avenue.

I don’t know exactly why the original founders of our neighborhood chose to name all of the streets after a bunch of ivy league schools back east. Perhaps, in their infinite wisdom, they thought that these street names would result in a more educated, more sophisticated people. I can assure you however, that this was not the case, and that our neighborhood was as ordinary as any other.

By this time I was coasting down Harvard Avenue faster than I could pedal. I prayed that my bike chain would not come off as was the case with my brothers on more than one occasion. Once the bike chain came loose, the unfortunate victim would lose any sort of braking ability as the only way in which the brake could be applied was to pedal backwards. As these thoughts went through my head, I turned around again, and to my alarm, Marc and Ben had nearly caught up to me.

The Schwinn was an excellent bike, but it was simply no match for a bike with the word “speed” in it. I caught the looks in my brothers’ eyes and it was not good. Their eyes were focused, intent, and menacing. They had the look a cheetah has just before it is about to capture the poor little gazelle and tear him to shreds. Fire and smoke were emanating from their nostrils.

And then, “Wham!”

I don’t remember exactly what happened, only that I had just slammed into a parked car in front of the Morgan’s house while looking back. I remember that much because Mrs. Morgan had come out of the house shortly after the collision to help me up. The handle bar had somehow done a half rotation during impact, which had trapped and entangled my legs. Marc and Ben were quick to forget their anger and vengeance toward me, no doubt when they saw my scrawny body hurtling through the air toward the unforgiving pavement. They were also quick to the scene and they joined Mrs. Morgan in untangling my body from the wreckage. I was in pain, but to my sudden wonder and utter astonishment they began to say such things like, “I’m sorry” and “You can ride our bikes anytime you want!”

Hah! Maybe I hadn’t thought all the way through my plan, but it worked out in the end. I had after all enjoyed a few short moments of freedom and exhilaration on the Schwinn, and yes I had emerged with all of my dignity intact even if it meant enduring a little bit of physical pain. And the best part of all…my brothers apologized to me after I had wrongfully taken the bike!

Epilogue:

After straightening the handle bars on the Schwinn, only a few cosmetic scratches remained. The Schwinn provided may more hours of riding enjoyment before being replaced by a ten-speed. Not long after the incident, my parents relinquished and purchased a sweet yellow Schwinn for me. The big cushy banana seat that came as standard equipment on the bike was quickly replaced with a sleek BMX racing seat.