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I remember the night before Christmas when I was around 6 years old. I gazed out through our windows looking to the sky with the thought of maybe catching a glimpse of that jolly old man and his reindeer. Most nights getting to bed early was like pulling teeth for my parents but not this night.
I watched some holiday shows and went off to bed as early as possible, wanting to hurry up to get to the morning as soon as possible when I’d awake to a stocking filled with goodies, warm apple and cinnamon pancakes and unwrapping would begin! Yes, I may have peeked a little bit around the house during the days leading up to December 25th, but the presents were mostly boxes that I guessed were clothes. No fun. Borrrring. I was hoping the “big present” would be sitting there when I awoke, delivered by the one and only.
I hopped into bed and forced myself to go to sleep. The slightest noise woke me up at 6am and I was up like a bolt of lightning hit me! I went out to the front room as everyone was still asleep and saw my stocking full of toys and chocolates. Then I looked around and saw more presents that were not there the night before. "Santa" didn't do a great wrapping job on one and I could tell it was my 1st Big Wheel!
Now maybe that doesn't count as my first real bike, (wouldn’t a ZiZZO BIKE be the BEST GIFT ever!), but it was the start of a lifetime of riding. I tried jumping off curbs using it. My friends would tie a rope to the handlebars and the other end to their "banana seat" on their bikes and pull me out of control. One time I filled up the holes with real oil like I saw my dad and his racecar pit crew do and rolled up and down all the neighbors driveways along the block. The "Big Wheel" leaked drops at a time and there was a trail everywhere I went. Some of the neighbors were not too happy, but I was the rugrat of the street and they just shook their heads as they talked to my parents.
Ah yes, good times!
