The Stolen Bicycle, a Treasure Map of Memories

Memories of your younger years, translated…

Perhaps, it was the Drive to Catch the Thief that’s Gotten the Best of Me, to the Point that I’d Run So Fast, Forgetting that I Still Have a Heart, I’d Just, Chased After the Person Endlessly………

Another sunny Sunday, a father took his ten-year-old son to the park, taught him how to ride a bicycle. The child was on an oversized lady’s bike, and that father pretended to be a pole, so his son can, ride around him, around, and around, again, and again. The, the father extended his left arm, said it was a tunnel, had the son pass through it carefully. As the son passed through it each time, the father minimized the pass, to test his riding skills.

this, is against the law, a matter of theft!  Photo from online…

Although the father was giving the son more and more challenges, but, I can tell, that he was, getting more and more nervous with each and every time, with his eyes zoomed in on his son, not looking away, kept stating, “Do be careful! You must, be careful…………”, but the child was, more than relaxed. The interactions of that father and son was moving and humorous to me, and yet, this picture of the father teaching the son to ride, it’d, made me recalled how I’d learned to ride.

The Baby Bird Who’d Constantly Flapped His Wings

One day, in my second grad year I’d called home, my mother told me on the call, that my father had, bought me a bicycle. At first, I’d not believed it, we weren’t well to do, why would my father buy me this expensive present with no reasons at all, it was, probably a joke, I’d thought. But, I was overcome with curiosity and excitement, and I took the bus home immediately to see if it was true.

I saw, that in the living room, there was, that brand new miniature bicycle, I couldn’t help but start hollering. It’s really for me! This size couldn’t be for my older sister, or my parents. I’d, tossed aside my backpack, took it out to the barns immediately to start riding.

And still, although, I was, overly excited for having my own bicycle, I just couldn’t, manage riding it. That bicycle seemed to be uneven, as I got on it, it’d, fallen to the side, it just, doesn’t move forward at all, and so, I can ask my older neighbor to teach me to ride it.

The older boy told me, that I’d needed the speed to ride on it, he’d told me, that I needed to gain momentum to ride, he’d held down the bicycle for me, allowing me to get on. Then, he’d held the bicycle by the handle and by the back of the seat, slowly moved along, then, all of a sudden, he’d, pushed the bicycle forward fast, and, shot me outward—but, I’d not learned how to ride, I’d, fallen and gotten injured worse, bruised and scratched all over! In the end, he’d lost ALL of his patience, and told me to practice on my own.

After a few days of practice, I still couldn’t manage it, but I’d, refused to give it up. Until one day, I sat on the bicycle, and ran toward the bottom of the hill, I’d swayed left and ride, in my own panic, not wanting to fall down, I’d, learned how to balance myself on the bicycle. I was like a baby bird, constantly flapped its wings, and finally, took that leap into the air, learned to fly.

still learning how to…not my photo…

A Bicycle that Vanished, into Thin Air

After I’d learned to ride, I could head off to farther places.

I’d gone afterschool, to visit all of my classmates on my bicycle a lot; back then, there were, not even a handful of us classmates with bicycles, so, it wasn’t just my transportation, but also, something I used, to socialize too. Everybody took turns, riding on my bicycle, and I was able to, make a lot of friend because of this.

But one morning when I woke, my bicycle was gone!

I was heartbroken for a while, really depressed, and decided, to find it back with a friend of mine. Everybody headed out from the village I lived in, and started scanning the area, to the apartment complex one, two kilometers away, but, we’d searched for it several days on end, still, NO sign of it.

As I was about to give up, one day after school, I saw a teenager, riding to a neighboring apartment complex.

I’d chased after him immediately, screamed out, “Why are you riding my bicycle?”, he was shocked, then started, pedaling hard, tried to outrun me. Maybe, it was, my thought of catching the thief, I ran to the point that I’d forgotten I still had a heart, just chased after him endlessly. As the teen saw he wasn’t going to get rid of me, he’d ridden into the downstairs of an apartment, then, left my bicycle, ran up the stairs. I’d stopped, and, checked out my bicycle, not really having the mind, to see which apartment he’d run into.

My classmates were so shocked and happy, I’d found my bicycle, and asked me why I didn’t blow the whistle on the guy who’d stolen it from me, to teach him a lesson? I’d said, just let it go, my bicycle was still good, and, he probably just wanted to know what it felt like to fly like everybody else.

So, I’d, allowed him to ride my bicycle, for an entire month is all.

So this, is a memory of childhood, being the only one in your class with a bicycle, and, perhaps, the older boy who’d stole your bicycle saw how much attention you got, and wanted to feel what it was like being the center of everybody’s attention, or, that he may be too poor, to have a bicycle, and just, took yours away to ride it for a short while, who knows, it didn’t matter, you’d gotten your bicycle back at the end.

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