Memories of motorcycles, bicycles, kids

I was at the BGM Kiddie Carnival earlier this month to take some photos. I was milling about the large gathering of area youngsters and their parents when I noticed a young boy with a green tractor on his shirt.

“Do you like John Deere tractors,” I asked.

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“No,” the young lad replied.

“Red tractors,” I asked.

“No,” he said again.

“How about blue tractors,” I asked a third time.

“No,” he said.

Puzzled, I waited while his mom whispered something to him before I asked what his favorite tractor was for a fourth time.

“Orange,” he replied.

“Alias Chalmers,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you have an Alias Chalmers tractor,” I asked.

“No, but my dad does,” the little fellow said as I smiled.

I didn’t have a tractor as a young fellow growing up in the big city, but in junior high, I wanted a motorcycle. Atlas Cycle in Tulsa was a few blocks from my school and home.

My friends Brain C. and David B. had motorcycles, and I wanted one too. They had newspaper routes and delivered papers on their motorcycles.

Atlas Cycle had a Bridgestone 60cc motorcycle, and I loved that bike, especially the dirt bike model for $250.

That’s not much money these days, but to an eighth grader making $100 a month on a paper route in 1974, it was a lot money.

I stopped at Atlas after school on occasion and would sit on the motorcycle and pretend I was riding the trails. I tried to convince my folks to let me buy it, but it was a no go.

I even promised to leave it at my grandparents’ and only ride it there.

My folks knew how much I wanted it, but their concerns regarding me getting hurt outweighed the cost of having the motorcycle.

Looking back, it was all good.

I may not have had a motorcycle, but I did have a number of bicycles through the years. I took piano lessons starting in second grade and by the fifth grade, I was taking weekly lessons at Mrs. Murry’s Piano School in west Tulsa.

There was a resale store on West Edison just outside of downtown Tulsa a few miles from where I took my piano lessons. My mom stopped one day while I was taking my piano lesson and bought me a bicycle.

I don’t remember the brand, but it was an ugly bicycle. I added a banana seat and sissy handlebars, and it was still ugly.

I rode that bicycle for a couple years before trading it in for a refurbished Schwinn Stringray bicycle.

Mr. James was a local bicycle repair man who worked out of his garage a few blocks from my boyhood home.

Stepping into his garage was like visiting a bicycle museum with bicycle parts hanging from large nails on the garage rafters to a variety of bicycles for sale.

Mr. James would scour junkyards looking for Schwinn bicycle parts, and he’d build bicycles from the ground up.

I traded in the bicycle my parents bought me, and even Mr. James said he’d never seen a bicycle so ugly.

My first Stingray, a gold-color model, cost $35. I added a newspaper basket on front that my aunt Alice bought me.

During the spring of my seventh grade year, I didn’t lock my bicycle at school, and someone stole it.

It was a big school, and unlocked bicycles were easy prey for a thief.

I bought a second bicycle from Mr. James, a green-colored version, and after the frame broke, I got another one, a yellow version.

My bicycle had no fenders or chain guard, and I rode it delivering newspapers, going to school and hanging out with my friends.

I’m thankful for all the memories and experiences as a youngster. I’m also thankful for all the opportunities that life has afforded me.

I love talking to kids, and I have taken lots of photos of youngsters and their prize-winning animals at the county fair, in school productions and at community events enjoying life.

And I’ve been around long enough that I’m now photographing kids of kids who I photographed years ago.

What a blessing!

Have a great week, and always remember that “Good Things are Happening” every day.