Growing up in Rural Indiana

Almost all of my memories of growing up, at least those of until I turned 16, involve my bicycle. My bike was more important to me then than Lance Armstrong’s is to him now.

I guesstimate that in the years between 4th grade and 10th, my heavy bicycling years, I put 10 to 15 thousand miles on that old two wheeler. When I first figured that one in my head, I had to get out a calculator to check my math. I couldn’t believe the numbers. That’s only about five miles a day, on average and I couldn’t even get to the grocery store and back for my mom in five miles.

I grew up in Smith Valley, for those familiar with that part of the world. Friends houses, that I rode to almost every day, ranged from Glens Valley to Bargersville an overall distance of about 15 miles. It’s a big township so riding five or more miles a day was no big deal. No wonder I started gaining weight as soon as I got my driver’s license.

The sad part is that as important as that bike was to me then, all traces of it are gone now, except for my memory of it. I gave it away when I went off to college and somehow it never made it into any family pictures.

The lesson that I’ve learned is to cherish what I’ve got while I’ve got it. No matter how unimportant it might seem at the time. Whatever or whoever it is it won’t be around forever.

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