Sometime in Spring 1975
It was a crisp sunny late spring morning in the mid-atlantic region, the rays of sun streaking to the ground through the leaves of the tall trees as if they were children running and playing. The modest brick front ranch house behind me, the large, groomed wood lot in front of me. I was four years old. My parents were both in the front yard with me, my father was bending over a small used mini-bike. I cannot remember, but somehow I just know that he must have been smiling since he was getting ready to present me with this incredible gift.
I placed my right leg over the bike and sat comfortably into the seat. I can distinctly remember him showing me the throttle and explaining how to use it properly (twist toward me to go). He never explained the brakes to me or how to stop this mini-bike, perhaps that was going to be his next lesson but I already began to practice the first lesson and turned the throttle. Who ever would have guessed that would have led to a life long love of twisting a throttle?!
The next thing I remember is this tree getting closer and closer to me. It didn’t even try to get out of my way! I stopped within inches of running straight into it.
I rode that bike for several years in my earlier childhood. My father added a go-cart to the line-up and then I switched between the two, but the mini-bike was my first love.
