December 2003                                       The Megaphone                                              Page 4

Bicycles and Tricycles

Now here's something worth writing about. I'm sure everyone has their own stories on this subject. Goodness knows I do. I'll start, but I sincerely hope many of you will write our Den with your own experiences.

My years of growing up in Elwood were filled with bikes and trikes. The first car we owned was in 1949, ten years after I was born. We lived one mile from town so I either walked or rode bicycles before that. My dad rode his to work everyday. He was a carpenter so the jobs kept him moving from one place to another, including at one point, Windfall. On Saturdays both parents brought home the groceries in their bicycle baskets. I recall my dad arranging a small blanket in the basket on the front of his bicycle to soften the bottom and the edges, then he would lift me up, sit me down in front of him and away we'd go. Later, I rode on the back with my arms wound tightly around him when my brother was old enough to get the basket. Eventually another baby came and when she was old enough, she got Mother's basket.

One night my brother and I were put to bed early because Daddy had a surprise for us in the middle of the night. Gosh! In the middle of the night? Why, I didn't even know what the middle of the night looked like! Sometime around midnight he woke us. We dressed in warm clothing, jumped on the bike and away we went. We got as far as the Nickel Plate Railroad when we stopped. There were lots of people already there and more came after us. Pretty soon, here she came, the first ever diesel locomotive ever to come through Elwood. Now, I so appreciate the adventuresome things we did with Dad but at the time never gave it a thought. How sad.

I had my own little red tricycle. I don't remember, but I've heard my mother tell this many times over the years. One summer day we went to town, me on my trike and she walking, pushing a baby carriage. While in the dime store I rode off, out of sight. The floor was wooden and smooth and I loved riding on it. At one point, realizing I was missing, she started looking for me. I either thought it was a game or knew I was in trouble, so away I flew, sliding around the next corner. I heard her voice and kept going. She'd turn a corner just in time to see my pigtails flying around the corner and out of sight . Pretty soon all the clerks were watching and laughing. I was in no real danger in those days, other than from my mother, but not minding her at all would lead to some unpleasant moments. Eventually some of the clerks joined in the hunt and soon the fun came to an abrupt halt! I bet my legs stung all the way home.

As time passed I grew, graduating to a larger trike. And then . . . one day there was a beautiful blue 24 inch bicycle, just for me. It was a used one Daddy had made like new but I thought it was the best in all the world. On some Sunday afternoons in the summer we would ride all the way across town to the swimming pool, my dad and I. Not realizing how special those days were until years later, when he was gone and too late to tell him, I am saddened.

As time does, it passed much too fast and I was handling an adult bike like a pro. My friend Dottie and I loved going over to South P street, on the west side of Anderson Street. We weren't suppose to go there but that never stopped us. The road was gravel and passed the city dump. My mother and my friend's mom thought it unsafe and rightly so.

There was a big hill going downward, crossing a bridge over Duck Creek and then back up again. We flew faster than the wind over that old gravel road. We'd heard stories about the rats at the dump so were always a little scary about that. Once in a while one of us would hit some loose gravel or a rock too large to fly over. Instead of the bike flying it was us, sailing over the handlebars and sliding in the gravel, and usually while wearing shorts. We always had skinned up knees and arms. Our mother's couldn't imagine why...?

When 1952 came I was 13 and remember the Centennial parade very well . . . my mother, wearing a gay nineties dress, long, lacy and white, a gorgeous white hat with a pink ribbon tied under her chin and high top shoes, my dad in a stripped coat with his reddish beard and straw hat . . . and guess what? They were riding a bicycle build for two! Ohhhh, I thought they were the best part of the whole parade!

Daddy had purchased a real one, a real bicycle build for two. He decided to keep it after the celebration was over, thank goodness! I think he foresaw all the fun it would bring.

My friend Dottie and I rode it to the swimming pool hundreds of times over the following years of junior high and early high school. There was a large grassy area just right outside the pool house and on some days it was covered with bikes. How unusual, when I think back to that time today. Never, no, never once was that bike stolen or "borrowed." It was a safe time and the little town of Elwood was a safe place for the kids growing up. Some folks today might call it Camelot, or Paradise lost.

As time rolled on and in it's order, my three children had their own tricycles and then bicycles, and all at once I was a "senior." We seniors are  told it's important to exercise and stay fit so biting the bullet, I bought another bike, this time for me. I rode it many places in Arizona and Oregon and now that I am living in Indiana, my granddaughter in Oregon has it. I don't know if it gets ridden much these days. Children so often would rather be taken by car and parents give in. What a shame . . . all they are missing out on. Times change as well as habits.

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I'm half crazy,
All for the love of you!
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage
But you'll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle made for two.

Herman, Herman, 

This is my answer do!
You're half crazy all for the love of me.
It won't be a stylish wedding,
You can't afford a carriage,
But I'll be switched if I'll be hitched

To a bicycle built for two!

JJ aka Julie (Stout) Crim '57
Anderson, Indiana

The Legend of the Holly

Submitted by

Carol Kochman Lewellen '73