When Guy thought back to his teens, there was a heady mix of emotions. Everything had seemed so intense then, as if life events and friendships could be understood as absolutes. Best mates were forever, relationships were for an eternity, or so it felt at the time. Opinions were more changeable, especially when it came to what he thought he wanted to do with his life.
If Guy had to name one item that summed up this time of his life, it would be his bike. He could still remember the Christmas when he got his first two-wheeler, admittedly with training wheels. Guy kept practicing until his parents were sure that he had some sense of balance. Once the training wheels were removed, he was off. There were countless stacks over the years, but there was nothing like being able to jump on the bike and take off in any direction. It was the best form of freedom.
His mates all had bikes, and occasionally, they’d head off for the day, discovering pockets in their suburbs that were a bit out of the way. It was like being an explorer in a space that was familiar but different. And one of the best sensations was riding with his mates, somehow together, but still alone.
Guy’s favourite was a metallic blue 10 speed racing bike. When he’d left home, it had travelled with him to uni, but ended up in storage in the family garage. When the house was sold, years later, the bike was cleared out along with other piles of miscellaneous items. Whether it ended up in an op shop for someone else to enjoy, or in hard rubbish, Guy never knew.
I’m participating in this blogging challenge for the month of January, which supports starting the year on the “write” track. You can find other posts with #bloganuary and join in the challenge.
Photo: bicycles on a wall




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